


As We Were

by shokoshik



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 67,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shokoshik/pseuds/shokoshik
Summary: Closures. We need them desperately. Even 3 years later. This is set 7 years after 3x12, and is canon until then.





	1. Prologue

**A/N:** Hey guys. For a few years now (since 2013)  _As We Were_ was sold on Kindle Worlds. But now when the program is shut down, I uploaded it to here. Please keep in mind it's the first one I ever written. many eons ago. Please also keep in mind that earnings from my Amazon sales went towards producing a film that I'm still trying to produce. If you enjoy the work and feel generous, or simply want more details, please feel free to check the [project's website](https://ruthsfilm.wixsite.com/ruths). Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars. The characters and events on which this story is based on, are property of ABC Family and Marlene King.

Editing by: Terias McKlay

Art by: Hila Taylor

 

**Prologue**

As much as I loved her, deeply, madly, with every fiber of my being, I wasn't naive. Hell, I am so many things, but naive was *never* one of them. No. Wait. Scratch that. I *was* naive, at one point of my life, but I was never innocent. Now, I'm neither. As someone who hasn't been naive for a while, I guess I should've known. You know what they say about high school sweethearts - they usually don't last. Cold statistical fact. Except, of course, there was nothing usual about Em and I.

I wouldn't call a relationship in which, at 17, both parts of the equation had to deal with coming out - usual.

Then of course, there was this whole thing about one of us having a dad in Afghanistan, and her best friend was murdered, *and* her girlfriend.

Then, just for kicks, her own life was constantly threatened and she watched a psychopath threatening her current girlfriend with a knife, resulting in her finally murdering him.

So much blood involved. Oh yeah, and I had my share of blood too. It was my own, and I did it to myself, but it just added more red to this equation that was Em and I.

I know self inflicted pain among teens and suicidal thoughts (which, I also had, thank you very much) are more… "main stream" today, and excuse my dark approach and morbid way of talking, but all I can give you, is *my* point of view. And this is *my* story, so, yeah.

And if you think I'm a bit on the sarcastic side, in general, as a human being, you might be on to something.

But honestly? I can't imagine how it felt for her that night on the porch, to hear that this new person she chose to be with after being hurt constantly, this person who she thought was indestructible, oh yeah, she told me, this person at one point was so afraid, so on the verge of… anyways. I can't imagine what kind of a scare I gave her that night.

She told me a while later that this is when she knew that I loved her. Because it was the first time I let *her* hold *me*, emotionally, and she knew that I realized that two can dance this "being protective" tango. This relying on each other, and that I don't have to be the strong one all the time.

And what was it like for me to be there for her after everything she's been through? Well, I always knew I was going to be exactly what she needed me to be. And if that someone, back then, had to be a person who's understanding, and mature for her age, who gets death, and loss, and darkness, then I'll go on these dark rides for her, with her, and do what I can to help us find the light, together.

And then we did.

Slowly, surely, with major setbacks when Em took a man's life, you know, when I was traumatized from being kidnapped, and beaten, and with a knife to my neck? But we were always each other's cure. With time, and with understanding, and with *us*, we climbed through hell holes together, fell back in, and climbed once more, stronger than ever.

Because, you see, there was nothing usual about us. We weren't just high school sweethearts, especially since I loved her long before we even hit high school, but also because our souls acted like a 50 years olds' souls, and we recognized each other, and found each other.

So, maybe I was naive to think that after everything, there was nothing we couldn't beat if we're together, and that it would never end between us.

But it did.

3 years ago today, it did. And she's still on my mind and in my heart, every day.


	2. Chapter 1

I haven't seen Paige for 3 years.

You know those exes that every time you're between relationships, your mind goes back to them and you wonder how they are? That's Paige for me.

Of course it's Paige.

Knowing us, knowing the intensity of us, I guess we both figured that if we stayed in touch, things would just get so confusing, and affect every other aspect of our lives. It was always all or nothing with us. So for 3 years now, it's been nothing.

Is it smart? Well, that's arguable. My head keeps telling me I'm doing the right thing by staying away, but my heart and soul keep calling me names and ache like crazy as if to get my attention. Those bastards.

But the simple fact is, three years, that's 1095 nights of going to sleep, thinking about her.

I've loved again. I've *lived* again. I cried, and fell, and laughed, and screamed, so very loudly, but whenever it gets quiet, I can always, *always* hear her voice in my head.

I'm not seeing anyone at the moment, so needless to say, getting a tiny bit nostalgic. It's like a vicious cycle. Breakups are usually followed by massive ice cream eating, loads of drinking, re-organizing of the entire apartment, some more ice cream eating, and, if TV doesn't lie, the making of short claymations.

It's like a 7 steps program, just that there isn't usually a real progress until like step… let's say 23 shall we?

The reason I call it a vicious cycle, ice cream aside of course, is because once the "re-organizing the apartment" step occurs, it usually leads to the opening of old boxes, which brings to the finding of objects with extremely high sentimental value.

Since I'm extremely lucky tonight, in the light of our 3 years non-iversary, and my quite recent single status, I opened one of these boxes and find the darkest of all sentimental objects. A clothing item.

These are the worst because you can smell the person, no matter how long it has been. And in extremely pathetic cases, snuggle with said item all night long, while remembering a related event or a sweet moment between the two of you, which may, or may not, be what I'm doing at the moment.

Ok, it's totally what I'm doing at the moment.

Cassie and I broke up about a month ago. We were in love, yes, we had a crazy beginning, then 6 months into our year long relationship, she moved in. It was clear for both of us that we're at a point in our lives in which we want to settle down, or at least play house for a bit.

Then 3 months in, we knew it was a horrible idea that wore us out pretty fast. So we broke up, she moved out a couple of months later, and I think she took my favorite mug, which, a little side note, was one that Paige got me in EuroDisney Paris, the year she was an exchange student in France.

It was a "Little Mermaid" one and she said it was the closest thing she found to something that relates to Sharks. But to be honest, any water themed thing was always a go with us.

But anyways, Cassie's out, I ate all the ice cream, listened to all the depressing songs (twice),and, not gonna lie, done some clay. But Cassie's energy is still here, and it's all sorts of painful so, naturally, it's 1 AM and I'm pushing sofas around. Subtle as always, Fields.

And of course under the sofa there are 3 boxes. I really need to start marking them so I avoid an incident like tonight's. But honestly? I feel that if I mark a box with a simple "Paige", it'll cause one of the next 3 scenarios: 1. new girlfriends won't approve. (Maybe I should just draw a little shark on it? Nah, I'm so bad, I'd probably think it's a banana) 2. New girlfriends will think I'm a single mom hiding a kid named Paige somewhere. 3. and probably the worst, I'll open the box anyways, *because* it says "Paige".

It's pretty much a lose lose situation, which is how I found myself lying in bed with this old plaid shirt Paige loved so much and which I swear, seriously, still smells like her, and I'm not sure if I'm tearing over Cassie or over Paige right now.

I remember the day she got that shirt. I think we were together for about… 6 months, so things really started to look normal again, as much as normal can be with both of us seeing Doctor Sullivan for different reasons. Like me killing a man and her being attacked and abducted. You know, all the Rosewood golden moments. But anyways, she walked into my room, cute as always with a little smirk on her face which made it pretty clear why she came over 30 minutes before our favorite show started.

Now, I'm the last to mock plaid shirts, seriously I had my share of them as well back then, but she didn't, and I felt like if we weren't carful, we're would've turned into those couples who get together and start dressing the same. I wasn't sure we should avoid it either, clearly, we were gonna look amazing anyways, but I had to mock this social statement that was a plaid shirt, on my girlfriend. So I went at it:

"Really Paige? A Plaid shirt?"

"Wha… you have like 7 of them! I wanted my own, you're too attached! You never let me borrow!"

"Come on, first the hats, then the plaid shirts, just buy a motorcycle already and you'll be the perfect cliché".

"How bout we get a cat instead? We can name her Ms. Kitty Fantastico!"

"What?"

"Oh little one, there's so much more I need to teach you"

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

When a conversation reached to the hypothetical question part, you know, the challenging part, it was usually followed by a non verbal form of communication. In bed.

Which is where I'm now. Alone. Man, I loved our "regular" moments. No darkness, no shadows *in* the darkness, just good old playful teenage coupleship, with giggles, and teases, and that awesome sex.

It's funny. I always thought that if anything was gonna actually manage to come between us and break us apart, it was gonna be the heavy extraordinary things that happened to us, not the boring regular dysfunctional stuff. Not the growing apart, evolving alone, needing something that the other can't give stuff.

But it was these things exactly that took her away from me.

And what a shitty anti climax *that* was.


	3. Chapter 2

The thing about human nature is: we need a closure, always.

Just think about all of those TV shows which drive us crazy, as we ache for things to be resolved.

We, as people strive to be resolved. To be whole.

I don't know if that's even possible, I don't think so. But closure helps. They work on TV because we want them in real life.

And it doesn't have to be all dramatic. It can be a letter to ask for forgiveness, it can be while you sit on the couch of a therapist as a long overdue realization hits you, and yeah, it can be getting back together with the person you're meant to be with.

If you don't get a closure, expect the world to remind you of that constantly. This is exactly what those moments in the shower, or when lay in bed at night, or run, or… swim, are all about. Your soul is asking you to find resolution, consciously, or else, she'd conspire with your *sub* conscious, to remind you of that lack of resolution, in your sleep. Oh ,restless nights galore.

See? It's a threat. The signs are all there. But we always ignore them don't we? Let it be future Paige's problem. Been my motto for quite some time. 3 years if to be exact.

If you think that Emily shouldn't be that present in my life, just because I was the one who ended things, you clearly don't know me very well.

When I feel like the people near me, can't benefit from who I am anymore, I pull away.

It's stupid, I know. It's an old stupid habit of mine that got me into all sorts of trouble. Mostly, because, come on…yes, we know ourselves, but when it comes to our loved ones? We're not objective, and there's almost always this tiny tiny voice in the back of our heads which asks: "How am I worthy of this? How can it be that I am *this* happy?".

No matter who you are, our fear of losing what we care about most, makes us question all the time. It's a defense mechanism. It's a system, to make sure we always strive for improvement and work on things, and evolve.

I was always looking for that. I mean, Em kept growing as a person, she was this amazingly beautiful human being, inside and outside, and I felt like unless I evolve too, she was gonna figure out that I wasn't special enough to be with her anymore.

You know what's really dumb? If anyone helped me finally realize and acknowledge the fact that I was special, and beautiful, it was her. But once someone makes you feel this way, she is the person whom you're always afraid will *ever* look at you differently.

I guess that's a part of why I took that semester in France. To explore, and evolve, and have all of those stories to tell her. She was *so* afraid that Paris was gonna take me away from her. But it didn't, not yet anyways. Actually, it was on the contrary. We missed each other so much, so by the time I got back, we were stronger than ever, finally reunited, and it was like a fresh start. And god, that Christmas break, when she came to visit me in Paris? That was the best vacation I had in my life.

Christmas in Paris. Isn't there a movie with that name? Well, there should be. (There is by the way, I just checked on IMDB. I don't want to misinform you).

We went to EuroDisney. Got to be all kinds of silly. It was magical and glorious and way too short of a visit. I went back there later, before I flew back home. It wasn't as amazing of course, but at least I got her a "Little Mermaid" mug. Should've gotten her the "Pocahontas" one. That's her Disney character. Obviously. I had three. Arielle was actually one of them, because of the hair, and because I'm a swimmer, duh. But we also had Jessie, the cowgirl from Toy Story 2 (Oh my god, I cried), and Em also said I reminded her of the girl hyena from "The Lion King". Lovely, was she not?

But anyways, we loved that mug. I knew it was always gonna make her think of me. I always had my coffee in it whenever I was over and later when we moved in together. I wonder if she still has it…

No, Paige, no. Stop it! No Little Mermaid, or Paris, or Em! How do I always find myself caught in these thoughts? Oh yeah, I know why, no closure.

I wonder if it's my punishment for being the one who ended it. The not having closure thing. But it makes no sense. For starters, if I have no closure, it means she doesn't have any closure too, right? I mean, I wonder if she even needs one. A girl like Em, at this point of her life, I'm sure she's ready to settle down with some gorgeous super model like she soon would be, or with someone who's the next Ellen Degeneres. Or something.

Also, how can it be a punishment if I can just pick up the phone and go after that closure any moment I want?

Except that I can't. She wouldn't want to hear from me. Oh, what am I saying? That will insinuate that she still cares enough, and there's just no way that…

Oh my god why am I such a mess?

See what I mean? Those dark moments of self doubts and low self esteem. We were together for 4 years, how can I not matter? So can I just, one of these days, pick up that phone and dial? I mean I still know her number by heart, so can I just do it? Can I just dial that number, I mean click speed dial 1 (yes, after all this time, no Harry Potter pun intended), and explain everything from today's perspective and tell her how sorry I am?

Can I?


	4. Chapter 3

Sometimes I just wish she'd pick up the god damn phone and call me.

But she doesn't and I honestly don't know why I just don't do it myself.

I guess it's the fear of interrupting her in some glorious life that she's having. Without me. I wouldn't know.

Man, that's so stupid. People keep missing out on crucial things in life because of silly miscommunications. And then years down the road, people finally talk and regret the lost time. I promised myself that I would never let something like that happen to me, and here I am, not living up to my own expectations.

Aren't we peculiar ones?

Well, it's a Friday night, and I'm moping in bed. I can hear Hannah's voice in my head preaching to me about getting my shit together and coming out for fun times. Oh, how I miss her. She's in NYC, being a fierce fashion designer, like you couldn't have guessed. And I've been in LA for the last 2 years, ever since my career switched a gear. I figured the change would be good for me anyways.

I get the occasional trip to Europe, for work, ironically mostly to Paris. Or Rome. Then I know what Paige was talking about. It doesn't happen very often, yet. But anyways, at least once every… let's say 6 weeks, I'm in NYC, and Hannah and I get to hang and fantasize about working together. It feels incredible. I still think it'll happen someday, maybe soon.

If we get really lucky, Spence joins us from DC, and Aria from Boston, and we have a crazy girls' night out like the good old days. It's hard to maneuver, but it happens.

Off course somehow, almost every time they see me, I'm between relationships, or in the middle of something that I already know won't last. Naturally, their questioning about my love life always leads to Paige, because my *trail of thoughts* always leads to Paige.

"If only Paige would…"

"Oh stop it Em!" Aria snapped last time I saw them. I know you would've expected it to be Spencer, but I think that while they all get annoyed with me for bringing Paige up, they also know the sad honest truth – I was never happy as much as I was when I was with her. It never felt *that* right again. No matter how in love I was. It's like when the puzzle pieces almost fit, but they don't. Because I already had the one that fit perfectly, and I've lost it. It's so out of reach, it fell out of the box.

The other thing is - they grew to *really* love her on the course of our 4 years together. So much, that I sometimes wonder if any of them are still in touch with her. I should ask. No, I shouldn't.

I also wonder if they'd rather I shut up about her already, or actually get involved and legit knock on Paige's door themselves. Come on, let's admit it, any one of them is capable of doing something like that. That's why I hate them. That's why I adore them.

But well, they are not here. So sucks to be me right now. An unwelcomed door knocking would be very welcomed at the moment.

Ok. It's Friday night. I'm gonna get out of this bed, I'm gonna put this shirt back in that damn box, I'm gonna wash my face, and then I'm gonna go out and have a social life because I only have 2 sane days a week. So might as well use them!

Ok, I'm getting up, here, shirt in the box. Should I seal it? Yes! No! Not yet, I might… need something from there. I mean maybe there's some stationary in there too. Like crayons, I love crayons. I'm sure there are crayons in there. It makes tons of sense. So I'm walking towards the shower, see? I'm putting my hand on the faucet, I'm totally fine.

Ok, you know what!? Just for the record? It's not an ego thing, ok? I just want to clarify that!

If I thought that there was the slightest of chances that she wanted me to reach out, I'd go after her and pledge my, clearly, eternal love for her. Even though she was the one to end things. I don't care.

Coz what matters is the truth right? And the truth is that no matter what I do or where I go, I can't stop loving her. And oh, I've tried. But considering she knew I'd be here for her, and the fact that I haven't heard from her since the breakup, kinda tells me what I need to know.

Oh god dammit what am I doing! Have I made no progress whatsoever?! Back to the shower, it's only 12:30 AM. I'm a young energetic hot girl, off I go to wonderful weekend adventures! Even if it means sitting alone in a movie theatre. As long as I'm not losing my mind, I'll be fiiiine. Just… fine. Though it is kinda dangerous, because paparazzi actually started to recognize me a bit around here.

Hmmm… clearly, I shouldn't go anywhere.

I should just stay in bed and be a grandma at 25.

I turn my head and of course, that stupid box is there, staring at me. Ok, I think I'm just gonna write "P" on it. Subtle enough. If anyone ever asks I can always say that the mover didn't speak English very well and thought that the term is "Pragile". P is for Pragile.

Oh my god that night that Paige was trying to listen to music on her… *CD* player. She was always an "old habits die hard" kind of girl. I smile at the memory of her innocent face, trying to remember how to even turn that thing on. She found it in her garage earlier that day, and was preaching about how it was gonna be retro. I tried the beloved nickname on her for the first time.

"Oh my god, what's that P?"

"Wait, 'P'? No Em, you're not making this into a thing".

"Why not?"

"You know. Because of pee?"

"Well *I* get a one letter nickname why can't you?"

"Don't cheat. Yours is two letters, Eeeeem".

"Well, I like P, and you have no way of stopping me".

"Oh, we'll see about that, Mmmmily".

"Mmm indeed".

And then we did what we always did after hypothetical questions.

Oh god dammit McCullers! I'm gonna get rid of this stupid box once and for all!

And unlike the last time I found it and said the same thing, this time I'm actually gonna do it!

No, I won't. I think I'll head back to bed instead, I don't care that it's 12:45. And I'm taking this shirt with me.


	5. Chapter 4

It's 1 AM on a Friday night. LA time. I always go by LA time for these things, because that's where she is. Which means I have 23 more hours to have this notion of "this is the day in which we broke up".

Or that I broke up with her.

Fun times galore. I wonder if she's thinking what I'm thinking right now. I doubt it though because I'm thinking that I'm a stubborn idiot.

I'm outta this apartment or I *will* lose my mind.

It drizzles. Of course it drizzles. It's nearly November, in Europe, so no surprises there. But I can't help but feel like some higher power interfered, just to make this whole situation as gloomy as possible.

I walk outside, let the chilly air cut through my lungs. I like the pain. It makes me feel alive sometimes. What can I do? I'm a masochist. But honestly, don't give me that look, because we all are.

Some people pull out hair because they're stressed. Some people scratch wounds. And what do you think eating your finger nails is all about? We want that little moment of pain. We kinda crave it. We just need to keep it at bay at all times, make sure those little masochistic habits don't turn into something destructive. And trust me, that I know all about *that*.

Sometimes I think that there's something within me that is addicted to pain. With my past in mind, and with the fact that I pretty much tore myself away from Emily, I can't help but think that maybe this is what I like. That maybe there's a part of me that can't live without this pain.

Let my name be known, from now until the end of time as "The Queen of Self Sabotaging".

I'm like a contradiction to king Midas. Everything I touch turns into poop.

Well I guess it's not *exactly* a contradiction. But that's all I have for you folks.

Renée called last night. It's been 2 months since the last time. She basically exists to prove my point. This hot gorgeous French lady who was so easy to fall in love with (I call it "shallow love", but still), who travels all the god damn time, and every now and then, when she's back, bored with the other pets, I get my booty call. And I never say no. Though I should.

I said no this time though. Couldn't bring myself to say yes to her. Not this week. This week is… huh. I just realized that thinking of Em made me turn down what would've turned out to be another emotionally masochistic night for me. Fields, always a friggin ray of light.

But there's no doubt that while "The Queen of Self Sabotaging" (should be known from now on as the QOSS) had one night off, the general way in which things have been handled around here, isn't the bestest.

This is exactly the kind of person I wouldn't want by Emily's side. Me.

My therapist would say that I'm punishing myself. That Emily was always the prize for my swell behavior (she didn't use the word swell, therapists never do), and since I never actually feel like I behave swellyly, I will never get the prize.

As much as I like to tell her that she's totally wrong, I know that sadly, she's right. First of all, of course Emily is the prize. Please note, not *entirely* objectifying, because I'm not saying that sshe's *a* prize per se, but *my* prize.

And again, of course she is. I mean, have you seen her? And did I mention she's just on the verge of becoming a super model? World sensation. My Em.

She comes here sometimes. I know she does because Spencer told me. Spence is kind enough to give me a heads up. I lock myself inside my apartment for a few days, live on Lays if it's a really short notice (They actually call them "Le Lays" in French. I'm sure you've seen "Pulp Fiction". You know how these things work). Find myself a project to be really invested in.

Do I see too much into the fact that Spencer always let me know when Em is in town? Of course I do. It means that Spencer doesn't want me to bump into Em either. As much as we're close, and love each other, Spence knows what kind of energy I bring with me. I think she might be trying to help *both* of us that way.

Will a logical person think I'm completely dumb and that Spence is probably just honoring my request? Very possible. But I'm no logical person. I'm the QOSS.

There's such a constant struggle within me at all times. I'm made of two halves. And you can tell me that we all are, but I don't believe you. I have the half which knows my worth, and what I mean to the people around me. And then there's the half with the doubts. The half that keeps me away. Always kept me away. And when it won…

I mean this entire breakup. For me, it was building up for months.

You think that I didn't want to be with Em forever and ever?

I did. I so did. It was the only thing I knew I really wanted.

It started when we were together for three and a half years. Highs and lows. Time apart. Then a partnership that felt so normal. Living together, having our own pace and routine. Getting up for coffee together every morning, heading to campus together. It was flawless. It had flaws, we had flaws, but we got over it, together. Which is what made it flawless for *me*.

And then the doubts came. I thought how much I still have to do. I mean, Em was my first love. She was my *only* love. I never wanted anyone but her, and when thoughts about proposing, naturally, after more than 3 years, crept into my head, I got so scared -

I mean, no other love? Really? Ever? Maybe… maybe I don't really know what love is yet. Maybe I'm deluding this amazing girl and wasting her time just because I'm not experienced enough to know what I should be feeling? I mean, how much did I explore? How much did I see? Maybe I'm supposed to travel, maybe by proposing to her I'll condemn her to a life with someone so small minded.

This is how my obsession with the need to travel, to break free, started. This is when these thoughts started to be evident in everything I was doing.

Maybe I was confused about love, but I knew I cared about Em, a lot, and I knew that at some point, I was going to hurt her. See, I couldn't just be happy without questioning it. The QOSS doesn't operate that way.

And so I've changed, quite a lot. Went back to being that insecure person who can't sort things out in her head. A person who shouldn't be next to someone so radiating, to cast a shadow on her.

Yeah, I'm still walking in the rain, in case you were wondering.

Just to think that I was confused about love. That I thought that maybe if it was that easy, I didn't know what real love was.

Do insert my sarcastic laugh in here please. I'm laughing in the rain… Just laughing.

Because now I know, I haven't had real love ever since. I don't think I'll have *real* love like that again.

And just thinking about it, makes it impossible for me to breath.


	6. Chapter 5

"You look at me like you don't know who I am anymore. Like I'm a stranger to you, and when you do, I feel like I can't breathe."

She was chocking as she said it, which made me realize how serious she was. She always chocked on her words when it was serious.

Stupid girl. How can she not see how wrong she was? Sometimes Paige got an idea into her head and it was absolutely impossible to sway her out of it. I knew where she was headed with all this, and, as my heart was breaking into a million pieces, I realized it was one of those times.

Yes, things *have* been different. I couldn't tell how. But the way I looked at Paige, was with worry. I knew she was going through something, something big, I don't know, maybe even a crisis of faith. And considering I knew that what she believed in most was us, I started to get really scared.

Because you see, Paige is the strongest person I know. She has done things I couldn't bring myself to do. But she always had a tendency to get so worked up about things. It came from her desperate need to always make the people around her as happy and as proud of her as possible. And right then and there, I could tell that she was so stuck in her own head, that she couldn't see how things really were. I didn't want her to pull away from me. If anything, this crisis made me want to pull her in closer to me, and fix it together, like we've always done. But I couldn't win against what was happening to her. Not this time.

" Paige, you're wrong, you are *so* wrong".

"Em…"

"Whatever it is that you're about to say, don't say it because I have a feeling that *I'm* about to get furious".

"Emily, don't you see? I'm not what you need right now!"

"Don't tell me what I need, Paige! Is it really that you're not what I need, or is it the fact that you're afraid because you know you are *exactly* what I need?"

"If you could only see what I see in my head! How much I'm taking away from you!"

"Oh don't you dare do this to me, McCullers. Not after 4years. Not *ever*. Because this thing? It's a forever kinda thing, ok? You can't just…"

"Em, what do I even know?! I've never loved anyone else! My heart chose you long before I even knew that you were gay! It was *always* just you! How am I to know that I'm not just... just…."

"Just what, Paige? Just what?!"

"Wasting your life! You're putting all your money on me. I'm so not sorted".

"Like hell you're not".

"I just have to go, Em. I need to… I don't know, I need to travel, see the world. I miss Paris".

"You miss *us* in Paris. That's not the real Paris".

"I miss feeling like I can do what I want, whenever I want! That I can go to sleep and choose to be somewhere else tomorrow. Feeling that way just makes me realize how much I don't understand *anything* and how much I'm really not good to be around right now!".

"Paige, instead of freaking out how about you talk to me! I've seen you like this for months and you're just now bringing it up! In an outburst! This is not how we do things! If you don't want me anymore then just say it, but there's no way, in hell, that you don't want me anymore".

"See how sure of yourself you are? I'm the opposite".

"What? You don't know what you want, Paige? Really? You've never loved anyone else so… so what? You don't know if this is real because you have nothing to compare it to? Well too fucking bad, P! Because I *do* have something to compare it to and let me just tell you that never in my life has something felt more real to me. You fell into the right place and found your missing piece early on. So what?! Lucky you! Some people search for this their whole lives! It's a blessing, Paige, not a curse…."

There was a silence. Probably a few seconds but one of those that feel like everything is in slow motion.

"Paige? Hey are you even listening to me?"

"Em! Are you even listening to me?"

"What? Oh, sorry!"

I've been with Hannah on the phone for the last 20 minutes, but I have no idea what she was saying.

"What's up with you homey?! First you don't return any of my calls for a whole friggin week, and now you're not even with me! Em, we are Rosewood girls. We *do not* vanish on each other for a whole week without even reassuring the other that we're okay".

"I know! I know! So sorry, Han. I've been completely distracted."

Not a complete lie. Not a lie at all actually. It's been a week since my pathetic fail with Paige's shirt on that Friday night, and since then, I've been thinking about her in any waking moment. And I *have* been losing sleep over it too.

Instead of throwing that shirt away I kinda hung it in the closet, and there's also a chance I wore it on Tuesday. *Don't* tell Hanna.

I don't know why. I guess it's the break up -non-iversary - finding that shirt combo, but I'm totally consumed by Paige right now (and not in the way that I would like to be, sad to say). Like I haven't been in a very long time.

"Ok, spill it".

"Spill what?"

"Really, Em? It's me you're talking to. How about you save us both the time and tell me what's up with you."

"Well…"

"It's Paige".

"Wha… how did you…"

"Because, it's *always* Paige Em! Plus… the date, a week ago…"

I couldn't help but smiling. Hannah is just an amazing friend. I mean, who else would remember the date in which her best friend's relationship had ended?

"Han, how did you even reme…"

"Come on, Em. It's my job to remember things like that. How are you doing?"

"Honestly? Not too good. It's like the more time passes by, the more I regress instead of progress".

"Em…"

"I just don't know, Han. I mean, I don't know what's right anymore. I mean I do know what's right. But it's not something I can have, and I think I'm getting worse".

Hanna sighed on the other side of the line.


	7. Chapter 6

I released a heavy sigh.

It's been a week. I don't know why I thought that after 24 hours I'd be able to go back to my daily routine. Like the date symbolized this one day in which I'm supposed to be mopey, but once it was done, it was meant to be all cotton candy and cake.

You're so stupid, McCullers. Your daily routine *always* included Em *anyways*.

Every year I think that maybe the date will bring with it some sort of a release. I'll deal with what happened, analyze it, and then it'll be all good.

Riiiiight.

Another sigh.

Renée called two times this week, and two times I have said no. Do you realize, that under any other circumstances I'd do flips in the air because of the fact that she called me so many times on her own free will? Gave me so much of the attention that I usually ache for?

Do you understand that it's been impossible for me to say no to her?

And yet here I am, not only refusing her, but not even doubting before I do it. Just giving up this opportunity for a night with her.

And what for?

A person on the other side of the world who I haven't seen for three years and whose life I can probably totally fuck up.

It's funny. I mean it's not. It's ironic. That I left her so I can get sorted and not be next to her while I was such a mess. But it seems that ever since then, it's all gone downhill anyways. So what was even the point? And if I didn't want my messy self to be around her *then*, be very sure that I won't do her any good *now*. Not when she has everything going for her. Having me in her life would be such a burden.

There's no room for that.

I often ask myself if I've made a mistake leaving her. Do I regret it? I do. I regret the way it made me feel. But I don't think it was a mistake and looking at where I am emotionally, I know that I did her a favor.

So what if she said that we were forever? So what if I actually agreed and knew how much I just wanted to take that next step and make it official?

God, I'm the biggest coward in the whole wide world, and I know, because I've seen a lot of it. Alone.

She always thought I was *so* strong. I guess she didn't realize that there was nothing I wouldn't do for the people I love. And she was, is…dammit, number one on that list.

Add to that the fact that I had her by my side, and I felt like I could do everything.

Such is the McCullers way. Something that I'd mentioned around her quite a lot. Even If something scares you, you put on a show, until you start to believe in yourself as an outcome of… deludedness.

She didn't really see eye to eye with me on *that* specific point of view.

"Oh come on, it's not because you're a McCullers. It's because you're *Paige* McCullers."

She smiled at me. We'd been together for three months at that point. The second round, so we already had all that history. We were in her room, just sitting comfortably on her window sit. The back of her head lying on my chest, as I was leaning on the wall.

When she saw I didn't respond, she looked at me with realization and urgency that replaced the playfulness from the second before.

"My god, do you really not know this? You're talented, smart, and incredibly strong, not to mention drop dead gorgeous, and very …*very* sexy. It's about time you'll own that."

I'm sure that the smile on my face was huge, not to mention the blush that I'm certain was very evident on my cheeks. And then I finally managed to say something to this goddess in front of me.

"Ok, you're right, I'm more than willing to do some owning right now, of… that" And I pointed at her body, top to bottom.

She giggled, at ease again and pulled me in for a kiss. I was all in the moment, my eyes were closed, when I felt her pull away.

"hey," she said gently, and I opened my eyes, wondering what had happened.

She just stared at me for a few seconds. Then said:

"I… I love you. With all my heart. It consumes me completely. *You* consume me completely. You know that, don't you?"

I was so overwhelmed. Not only was this the first time that either of us said it, but the sincerity and assurance in which she said it… Here she was, proving to me once again how sure of everything she was, and how strong. I was ecstatic, and surprised. And also, very very jealous of her certainty.

I never dared to imagine that she would say something like that to me. Don't get me wrong. I trusted her completely. If there was anyone who saw me for who I really was, whom I let in into my deepest darkest flaws and secrets, it was her.

She had my heart. All of it. For so long. And the feelings I had for her were so … uncompromising, that it could be exhausting at times.

Which is why, even though I knew she had some sort of love for me, and let me be by her side for a while (I was gonna make it last as long as I could), I never thought I'd hear from her something like *that*. And I certainly didn't expect her to be the first to put this thing out in the open.

I call it "thing" like it's a bad thing. It's actually the most amazing thing in the world. You know what's funny? If it was up to how I knew *she* felt? Well, she actually made me believe that she's never gonna go away. *I* was the problem. Of course.

She smiled at me after I've been silent for a little too long.

"It's ok, you don't have to say anything, I just wanted you to know. To *really* know. Not just to assume".

"Oh god, Em, I'm so sorry. I got completely lost in my own thoughts!"

She laughed. She knew me so well. "Anything worth being lost in?"

"You".

She looked at me. We just sat there in silence for a minute. We stared each other in the eyes and she leaned in to kiss me.

"Hey…" I stopped her before her lips touched mine.

"What?" she was confused.

"You don't even know how long… I mean you don't know this but…"

I sighed. She just smiled at me patiently, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes. I took a moment then continued.

"I love you too. I've been in love with you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you. I couldn't breathe. I still can't sometimes. The first time that you spoke to me, I just…"

Another sigh. It was an intense afternoon.

"It's always been you, Em. *Only* you. I never even thought about anyone else. Just the one person, always".

Her smile widened and I could see tears in her eyes as she let the weight of what I just said to sink in. I was so afraid of coming out as a crazy obsessed stalker, but of course, Em's way of making everything ok, I could see how touched she was. How happy. I knew this is exactly what she hoped for. And then she spoke again.

"Well, my love, I really like your math of just the one person."


	8. Chapter 7

I *hate* math!

Honestly? I just wanna go out for a run and clear my head before the flight (not gonna happen) but instead I need to figure out what's wrong with these bills. You just wait until I'm super famous and someone else is gonna be responsible for paying my bills! I mean, technically, I'd still pay, but someone else will have to deal with the numbers!

Paige was great with numbers. Couldn't do trig to save her life, but just old school math? Genius.

Dammit!

Seriously. It's mid-November, it's been a few weeks, I'm keeping myself busy so I don't really have much time to think. I swear. But every now and then, a random thought creeps in, and I can't ran away from it. And that's how we get to math – numbers – Paige.

It's like the "Threes rule". You know the drill. I can get to Paige in three steps from any given word.

The randomest of words. Don't believe me? Challenge accepted.

Frog?

Frog – prince (well princess charming) – Paige

Lipstick.

Lipstick – lesbian – Paige (and yes, I *am* aware that I know many lesbians who aren't Paige. Hush.)

Donut!

Donut – sweet – Paige

Night?

Night – bed – Paige

Shower.

Shower – water – Paige

Cars!

Cars – bikes – Paige

You see!? I'm *really* good at this game. Need I go on?

Because of course, there's always the old reliable Paige – Paige – Paige.

So anyways, yes. I don't think about her *as* much, but it's only coz I'm busy and I know that being busy isn't gonna last forever and my mind isn't gonna be pre-occupied always. So for the time being, I manage to keep it like 60% "Paige – free zone", but I'm very much aware of the fact that this is not an eternal solution and that something needs to be done. Maybe therapy. Seriously, it's time.

I should head to Barnes and Nobles and get me a "Getting Over An Ex For Dummies" or "Getting Over An Ex 101" book, because I'm clearly failing all the basics miserably. Oh, what am I saying? This is crazy talk! I'm gonna get the *Kindle* versions.

Three years. Three friggin years. How is it possible that I am *this* stuck over something that ended that long ago, with a person who doesn't seem willing to be any part of my life?

I just lost my phone and had to buy a new one. I'm all over the place. Cassie called me the other day to have coffee. Jesus Christ. I didn't even recognize her number. I could tell she was hurt that I didn't know it was her when I answered. I mean, I was in a relationship with the girl for a year. Loved her. Lived with her.

I said maybe some other time, that the week was really busy. But it wasn't really. I just didn't feel like seeing her, at all. Ha! Less than 6 months ago we were still in love and now I make up some nonsense about being busy, so I won't have to see her and… what? *cheat* on the girl who hasn't spoken to me in three years and whose whereabouts are a mystery to me?

You are ridiculous, girl.

Why am I so broken?

Oh, right, bills. I'm also broken because I can't calculate. See how unhealthy this is? I have stuff to do. Real life stuff! I need to focus and concentrate and accomplish simple things but will my mind listen? Oh no. Of course not.

Anyways, this has to be done *today*. Hanna has been calling every day now, and Spenc and Aria too, which led me to realize that Hanna probably told them how down I was. So they all pretty much threatened me that if I don't come to NYC for a weekend of shopping and girlyness, I might not live to see *another* weekend.

I don't even know how Spencer managed to take time off. Mostly, because none of us really know what is it that she's doing.

I was reluctant at first, but let's face it, hanging with my girls is a rare opportunity these days, not to mention, the best medicine that the world can offer for my pain. Other than, you know, pain – medicine – Paige.

Sigh.

So I should go, get myself out of this patheticness that was the last 3 weeks, and have some fun.

Man, my flight is in 5 hours. And have I packed yet? Nooooo sir!

God damn bills.

That's it, I'm just gonna hire an assistant when I get back. I have the money, might as well let myself start using it. Let's just hope she'll manage to finish it within a day. What scheduling and grocery shopping and coffee runs didn't manage to make me do, the math will.

Memo to self: Hire an assistant. *Must* be good with numbers.

Like Paige.

Grrrr!

Can *not* be Paige!

Who would even agree to be my assistant in my current state? I've been acting like a zombie hobo for weeks. Ha! A Zombo!

Second memo to self: Make Zombo a thing.

Ok, ditching bills. This is gonna be the future assistant's problem.

Packing time! Wait, better call car service first. Alright, done and done.

*Now* it's packing time. Why so last minute Fields? Pffft. That's just how I role when my life sucks I suppose! It's all good! All good!

Anywayyyyyys, It's gonna be cold in NYC. I better take long sleeved stuff, rain boots for sure, I wonder if it's gonna snow. I miss the snow. I hope it'll snow! So yeah, let's see, this, that, umbrella, better have something fuzzy and warm as pjs. Fuzzy – flannel – Paige.

Dammit!

More specifically, Paige's shirt. Should I take it? Oh what the hell, I already hit rock bottom anyways, and I mean, I'd only take it with me for technical reasons of course.

So what if I'm flying out to not think about all this? And so what if I have tons of other fuzzy clothes?

This makes total sense, don't you see?

So What- Pink - Paige

Sigh. Sighs seem to be the most common action around here lately.

Fine! Whatever! I'm getting outta here and I'm gonna have fun!

Just gotta figure out comfy yet still nice attire for the flight. People might take photos. Better have a jacket. Oh yeah liking these pants. You look sharp Fields, at least there's *that*.

Crap, taxi driver is honking.

Ahhh! Ok. One last thing. And this is the important part.

Hair up or down?

Hmm… down, definitely down.

Vaca!


	9. Chapter 8

"You need to have your hair down more often, P. You look breathtaking".

I looked at her. Still walking on a cloud nine. In one word? Afterglow.

We were in bed. We just slept together for the first time. We got the perfect scenario. It was that afternoon when she told me she loved me and I told her that I've loved her since the moment I laid my eyes on her. After that, there was really no stopping us.

I was so scared beforehand. Not from the act. Hell, I'd been fantasizing about this forever. I just really didn't want to let her down. She was more experienced, I had, well… zero experience, and I had a feeling that Maya had her own share of experience. I know, that's *a lot* of experience in one sentence, and none of it was mine. Hence, a little bit (subtext for *a lot*) of anxiousness.

And so we were lying in bed, I was waiting for the verdict, and the first thing she said to me was something so sweet and encouraging. Oh, Em. It's like she always knew what's going on in my head.

And then, just to make things even better, she spoke again.

"And I love you".

I just smiled. It's one of those "Is this really my life?!" moments. And it was. Jesus, it was.

"I love you too. Stop beating me to it. Let me say it first at one point will ya?"

She giggled.

"God, it's not a competition, Paige".

"No, you're right. Competition is what we've just done a few minutes ago".

She smiled at me teasingly. I leaned in and kissed her.

Needless to say, the sex was amazing. For me, that is, and from the way she was behaving, it was pretty clear she had no complaints, and that's all I needed to know.

We're so competitive in life, it was only natural we would compete in bed too. Honestly? I was just happy that the period of fantasizing about having sex with Emily, rather than actually doing it, was over. I mean, not *entirely* over. There were long hours in class and afternoons of homework at home. When the real thing is out of reach, you work with what you have. At least she was mine for real, *as well*.

Man. Thinking about it is actually putting me in a very fuzzy state of mind. I feel warm inside, and it's good timing too. Because it's one of these days that I actually feel inspired.

You see, here's my daily routine in periods when I'm actually functional:

I get up in the morning. Before I do anything else, I go out for a run. Before the streets are too crowded with people and tourists. When I say morning, I mean like 5 AM.

I go downstairs. The bakery, sorry… boulangerie, when in Rome (although I'm not)… is a few hours from opening. It means that they're baking from the break of dawn, to be ready to open by 7 AM, and sell fresh baked goods to the people who rush to work. So I always smell an amazing smell, but I'm not hungry yet. I never am when I get up, but I know that by the time I'm back from running, I will be. Marie and Francois love me, so even though I usually come back around 6.30, they always let me buy something before they even open, *and* they add something for free.

I'll be lying if I said I don't run by the Eifel tower, coz I do. Parisians never visit the Eifel tower, 'tis true, and I don't either. Just run by it.

I live in the south west part of the city, so it's actually quite comfortable. I run for a bit before passing by the tower, then by the Seine for a while before crossing it, then it's on to the arc, through Gerorge V and of course, the Champs-Elysées. I head back south, cross the river again, and get home around 6.45 after I get my yummyness.

Then I go back to sleep for two more hours. Running in the cold, the stopping for bread, which forces me to cool off, then home for a quick steam shower and back under the covers, equals divinity.

Around nine, clean, hungry again (the bread is still fresh from the morning, I eat the rest of it), and mostly sorted and energized, I turn on my TV. I like to put some American news in the background, and on a good day, when I have the right kind of muse, I paint, or sculpt, or write. If it's a really nice day, I'll take my camera outside.

I'm the worst kind of artist. The one who likes everything, so I'm basically all over the place. Some of my photos/stories/paintings were published. Some of my paintings/sculpts were exhibited. I really can't do just the one thing. My manager seems to like it. *I* think, *know* actually, that I'm just insane. Can't make up my mind. Story of my life.

Maybe I'm looking at it all wrong. Maybe it's just that I love it all. Can it be about that? About how I just love it all and not wanting to give up *any* of it?

Yes, this last sentence had subtext in it. But I'm gonna ignore that for now.

So that's my routine on a good day. I haven't had a good day in weeks.

But today? Today was a good day. Maybe because it's less fall-y, and becoming hard core winter.

Winds of change, quite literally.

You know how you sometimes decide to turn your life around, and then it lasts for about a day? I call it – "The Diet Syndrome".

But for today, I'm not gonna think about it. Because I had an amazing run, and even though I'm completely sore from neglecting my body for so long, I feel great. And yes, Marie gave me some attitude about not coming by for so long, but I still got my bread and a butter croissant, so I left merrily upstairs for a long shower and nap.

I dreamed of Em, of course. Not a rare occasion. It was different though and rather than causing me pain and frustration, I couldn't help but getting up of my slumber, all warm inside.

I placed my canvas in front of the tv so I can look if I hear it's anything interesting, and I started painting. I couldn't help but thinking about our first time. This fuzzy feeling just led me back to that day, and surprisingly, I felt nostalgic in a good way.

And just like that, lost in a sensation, my hands were moving without me really knowing what I was doing. Usually my best pieces came from creating like this.

I looked at the TV for a second, and I heard the anchor mentioning Langley.

Oh I should really text Spencer! It's been so long!

She's doing some super secret national security related stuff in D.C. Sometimes I think she's just saying D.C, but she's actually at Langley doing god knows what. You see, all of those misguided pointed fingers, directed towards people who weren't A, finally paid off for Spenc, when she finally pointed at the *right* person. But that's a whole different story now, isn't it?

Oh my god. I should totally text her. It's been way too long. She's soooo gonna guilt trip me over not being in touch. Oh well, I'll just finish this layer, wash my hands, and text her. Maybe I could sneak a question about Em.

Right. Like she wouldn't give me the report anyways.

Yes, I most definitely need to text Spencer to ask her how Em… I mean she, is doing.


	10. Chapter 9

Annoying beeping sound is coming from Spencer's phone. She got a text and of course she'd gone to the bathroom and didn't take it with her. Who does that?! Certainly not someone with a mystery job.

We had such a lovely dinner. We're sitting at a lovely Italian restaurant in front of The Lincoln Arts Center. It's night, so I can see the fountain all lit through the restaurant's windows, and it's beautiful. I must admit, I'm a bit tipsy, and I'm loving it because I know what it'll lead to, later tonight. But then this annoying sound... It's been going on for the last minute, reminding the world that there's an unread message. I'm cranky because I'm tipsy. It goes like this these days: Tipsy Em is cranky Em. Now, *drunk* Em is fun Em.

Since I'm me, instincts kick in and once I hear a beep, I look around to the source of the sound. I'm like a little birdie and I'm not ashamed to admit it. So I've been actually good, ignoring it for the last minute, but I can't control myself forever, can I?

And as I hear the beep again, my head finally turns to the source of said sound, placed just next to me, since Spence was sitting there.

I see the name on Spencer's screen, and I almost wish I hadn't. Almost.

Oh no. It's says "McMonster"

I've heard that nickname before, many times, and by the look on Aria and Hanna's faces, it's clear that they know that dinner is officially ruined. Such a waste. This is where I snap, take the phone, and ask them without considering breathing in the process - "Why is Paige Texting Spencer?! Is she in touch with her?! I knew it! Are you guys in touch with her?! Why would she text her?! Why?! Answer me!"

"Em…" Aria tries, but I'm not really listening.

"It says McMonster!"

"Well, maybe Spencer has another friend with a similar last name!"

"Hanna, come on! Seriously?!"

They're both saying things to me, but it's useless. I'm gone.

I'm too busy reading the text. *My* ex, *my* rights of ignoring rights of privacy.

"Hello there, Spenc-pants! It's been too long, I know. But please, before you guilt trip me all the way from your whereabouts to mine, I just wanted to say that I saw a piece about Langley on the news. It made me think about you and your mad spying skills. Please report to the home base soon! Miss you!"

"Oh how lovely. Paige misses Spencer. That's really touching, really!"

"Em…" Aria and Hanna both say at the same time. It's clear that at this point they are terrified of what the outcome might be.

Again, though, not really listening.

Man. It was such a nice dinner. I arrived a couple of hours ago, Hanna made reservations. They were all already in town. The perks of living on the same coast. We thought of booking an hotel, but Hanna was all about slumber partying at her apartment, which honestly was huge and amazing so we figured, why not? Of course I'm sure she's regretting that right about now, when she sees the creation of the party pooper monster, right in front of her eyes.

That'd be me.

I almost feel bad about it then I remember that they've kept something from me. Something quite big.

I read through the message again. It's such a tiny thing. Gives no information whatsoever other than the fact that Paige and Spence don't live in the same place. Who knows, maybe she's on the west coast too. Closer that I had ever imagined.

Then, there's her mention of Langley which clearly relates to Spencer's mystery job. I could tell she was just in the dark as the rest of us, and that she was teasing Spencer about it too. Constantly, from the looks of it.

God. This text is so Paige. Just with that tiny glimpse of her character. It has nothing to do with me, and still, it feels like someone stabbed me with a knife in the stomach.

And trust me, I really don't like *this* specific metaphor. So if I use it, things are *that* bad.

"Em?" Aria said gently. I realized they've been quiet for a while, just letting me process.

I sigh.

I really don't want them to feel bad, but I can't help how I feel. And at the same time, there's something comforting about knowing they're still part of Paige's life. Like with that one link to her, *I* was still a part of her life too. And it's good to know that she was loved this whole time.

That text seemed cheerful. How happy is she? Without me, that is?

Can it be that her life improved tremendously, while I'm feeling like *this*?

I kinda want to keep looking through Spencer's texts, to see if there's anything else. Right now, I'm just craving any piece of information I can get. I guess I didn't even realize it until now, but when it's just in front of me all of a sudden, I want more. I *need* more.

And that is the moment Spencer chose to come back from the bathroom.

"Oh my god, you wouldn't believe the line in the lady's roo…"

She noticed the change in the atmosphere.

"Hmmm… what's going on? 5 minutes ago you were talking about more drinking plans for later tonight."

I hand her the phone quietly. I'm starting to feel just a bit guilty, then I remember what it was all about.

She saw what I was looking at, and realization sank in.

"Wow, Em, going through my texts?"

"Wow, Spence, not telling me about *this*? Plus, I only saw the one text."

There's silence for a few moments. No one knows what to say.

"Em… I thought knowing all of this would hurt you. *And* (she continues immediately as she sees me getting all worked up), more importantly, *she* thought it would. I honestly just tried to respect both of you, and do what I thought was right. We all did."

I look at the three of them, they are all nodding, and I know that she is at least partially right. They had every right to be in touch with Paige. And that if Paige herself didn't want me to know anything about her life, then Spencer figured it falls under the category of what's between Paige and I. But it still feels like a sting. Three years. Three years they kept this from me. And I have a lot of catching up to do. This was quite the blow.

Spencer looks at me, she's really worried. Like she knows I have discovered this thing that I'll never get over. But I just say gently:

"Girls, how long before you finally stop trying to protect me, by not telling me things? We've been through this, so many times before."

They all feel horrible, I can tell. It's very evident in their faces. Spencer breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry, Em. I honestly didn't know what to do. And that's a rare thing for a Hastings as you very well know."

The urge to know everything takes over, so for the time being I'm not too bothered with how really upset I am.

"Just tell me everything. Where is she? Is she on the west coast too? What is she doing? Is she happy? I wanna know everything that you know."

They look at one another, then Spencer says:

"Well, for starters, she's in Paris".

Paris. After all this time. Bloody Paris. Always taking her away from me. Well, then, I guess she got what she wanted after all. And yes, I'm being sarcastic and bitter.

"And she's an artist. Like she always wanted to be".

"She's amazing, Em," Hanna interrupts, "she writes, and sculpts, and draws. Some of her stuff was published, and she had pieces in a few exhibitions. You'd be so proud of her. She's so talented."

Okay. Jealousy. Tons of it. . They know so much about her life. She *shared*. She let them see her art. This feels like rejection in the worst way possible. But I *am* proud of her. And there's something else. A crave. A crave to sit naked in bed, with the comforter wrapped around my body, as Paige walks around from piece to piece and tells me all about them, while I look at her with adoring eyes.

Did she make it her goal to make sure I knew nothing about her life? Why?

"And as for if she's happy…" Aria starts to speak. "None of us can really answer that, actually. Not really"

I wonder what she means exactly, but then something occurs to me.

"How much does *she* know?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asks in return.

"Oh come on, Spencer. How much, does *she* know, about *my* life?"

They are silent for a moment.

"She knows everything, Em." Hanna volunteers to answer, to take some of the heat off of Spencer. She's very noble this way. But I'm still furious.

"And this seems fair toy you?! She knows everything about my life and I know nothing about hers?!"

"I'm sorry, Em. But honestly? You never asked, she always does. All the god damn time. And she's not even being subtle about it usually, though I'm sure she thinks she is." That was Spencer again. And I'm honestly ready to get up and spill water all over her face. But now, something else takes over me and I ask:

"Does she know about Cassie?" I don't even know why I asked that. Am I afraid it hurt her? Do I *want* her to know that I'm not just sitting around?

"She does." It was Aria's turn to join the heat lift team.

I almost add, "and? How did she react?" but I stop myself. Paige asks about me. All the time. Why?

You know why, Em. From everything they've said so far, you know that it's not just about being polite.

I have to own this notion. Paige isn't just asking about me because old habits die hard. There's more to it. And yeah, Paige dealt with this whole thing awfully, but if *she* can't bring herself to be smart about this, *I* will.

"How mad are you? On a scale from zero to infinite?" Aria asked cautiously.

I take a few seconds to truthfully consider my answer to this. I love my friends. They are sometime misguided. We all are. God knows Paige is. Stupid, annoying, beautiful, amazing Paige. But the bottom line is, that I have other things to be bothered with with right now.

"I'm not mad." I answer honestly after considering this and counting to ten.

Because truth be told, at this very moment, I'm mad in a whole different kind of way.


	11. Chapter 10

Oh my god. This day is a *complete* madness!

It's 4 AM.

I spent *all* day painting. You know how long it's been since *that* happened?

I mean, I was on a roll!

I do have a confession, though, and I doubt it's gonna surprise anyone.

If you look at my painting, you can see a black haired girl in it.

I wouldn't let myself go as far as to actually paint Em's face at the moment, but, I mean, come on. I was thinking about her all day, and all you can see in this painting is the girl's back and her black hair on it. So, all things considered, it's gonna be our little secret.

And by the way, I totally painted from memory.

I lean back on the sofa, the canvas is still in front of me, I look at it, and smile. I feel like I've done something a bit forbidden and it feels good. On the one hand, I miss her and I don't ignore the feelings it awakens in me. But on the other hand, since you only see her back, no one can accuse me of doing something unhealthy.

Other than myself of course. Let's be honest. This is all incredibly masochistic.

You do need to know though, that all the pictures I've sold or exhibited so far, with the exception of two, were pictures featuring Em in one way or another.

She was always my muse, my work was always at its best when it featured her, because she was the most real thing in my life. Good art is always about being truthful. And as I said, I draw them all from memory. Even though, and yeah, I didn't mention this until now, I have a picture of her in my drawer at all times.

Crap, it started raining really heavily. I *told* you this day is madness! So happy I did my laundry yesterday. I'm home, I'm warm, and I haven't done anything that good, art wise, in a very long time. I think I'll treat myself to some hot coco. I've earned it. I've been a useful member of society today by actually getting out of bed.

But back to that photo. I did peek at it today. It's a really important photo for me. It was my first year in college. We didn't live together yet. It was before I even came to Paris. But we were both in schools in Philadelphia and made sure we met as much as possible.

It was the first assignment I'd ever gotten in photography class. Just playing around in black and white, to get the feel of the camera. I took some private classes before college, to make my portfolio and everything, so I wasn't *entirely* clueless.

I was at my dorms, taking a few self portraits. The professor asked us to try and capture ourselves too. He wanted people in the photos, but he also said that learning about being in front of the camera, helps a lot with knowing what is needed behind the camera, and vice versa. So I felt a bit dumb, but I took a few of myself doing different things. Writing a note to my roommate, telling her I won't be home tonight. Brushing my teeth (setting the camera for this one was really tricky). Being surprised coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my body (even trickier), and more.

I think Em's favorite one was the first one I took. I was just sitting on the bed, legs to my chest and my arms wrapped around them, looking at the camera with a small smirk.

I really wanted to hear her opinion about the pictures, so I went out to develop them before heading to her dorms for the night to take some more pictures of her. Among other reasons. The first one was as I knocked on the door and she opened it, and I just snapped the picture. She was completely surprised, of course.

She pushed me saying "Paige!" while I giggled. She was already in pajamas so she didn't approve as much. It's like she sometimes didn't realize that no one should look *that* sexy before they go to bed. It was one of her many good qualities. You know, the sexyness. At *all* times.

But of course once I arrived and this one photo was out of the way, she loosened up and we took tons of more pictures. It was so easy for me to work with her. All those pictures came out amazingly beautiful. I wish I could say it was because of my magnificent photography skills, but, first assignment, remember?

Nope, it was all Em.

The one I always kept with me is of her, lying on the bed, horizontally. I took it from the side of the bed. She's staring straight into the camera. Her stare can really pierce through you. It was very intense.

She told me later that she was thinking about how I was gonna reward her for all that hard work I made her do.

And you can be sure that once we were done, she *was* rewarded. Rewarded in the shower, then rewarded in bad, then again in bed the following morning.

It was a good day.

I can't help but smile at the memory of all of this. I should probably take a shower *too* and then have my hot coco times under the comforter. Maybe if I'll end this day right, I'll actually manage to have another day like this tomorrow. Should I still get up to run if I'm still awake at 4? Goodness.

And yeah, I know that I need to think about all of that Em stuff and how present she is in my life lately. Since nothing has changed, this needs to be under control and at the moment, it's not, but honestly? It was such a good day, I'll just take a shower, be happy about this painting, and not think about it now.

Phone beeps.

Oh, it's Spencer. Wow, took her long enough to answer that text. Langley would do that to you, I suppose.

Let's see.

"Very funny, McMonster! Sorry I'm just getting back to you! You texted me at like 2 AM! What were you doing up?! How are you?!"

I smiled. Oh Spence. We had a rough start but seriously, we really get each other and she's been an amazing friend. Her presence in my life was even more important once I lost Em. I mean, made myself lose Em.

"I'm actually *still* up! I know! Crazy! And it's okay, no worries. I know how tough things can be at Langley! I mean, I don't, but I'm sure you'll tell me all about it one day ;) Well, you'll be happy to know that I've been painting all day after a little drought. I've been tweaking into the AMs. How are *you*?"

"That's amazing, Paige! I guess when the muse hits you, it just hits you. I'm good. Not gonna lie. Totally drunk right now. Which means I should be careful or I'll spill secrets! Shhhh!"

I laughed hard. Oh goodness, what is she up too?!

"What is it that you're doing Spence? Tell thy Paige. She will not judge!"

"I shaaaaal tell you, But tomorrow when I am sober. You text me a picture of that drawing! You hear MonsterMC? Are you a dish at McDonalds btw? I'm sure if you are, you are yummy!"

I didn't even have time to laugh before she texted again.

"This came out wrongggg. Hence tomorrow talking will resume *%&$. Miss you, your bitch-ness!"

Wow, this is getting less and less coherent by the moment. Resume tomorrow indeed. But I love her so.

That's my cue for shower, hot coco, and then a very welcome sleep. Bliss.


	12. Chapter 11

They're all asleep. They have been for a couple of hours. We drank like crazies last night.

I think they welcomed it, considering it meant we didn't have to talk about the Paige rage anymore.

I, of course, am lying in bed awake. Still a bit drunk and can't sleep.

I'm trying to think of the meaning of everything. To understand, and kinda map out everything that Paige might know, and how it might've affected her.

The thing I keep coming back too is Cassie. I should've asked Spencer everything about that straight away, but I didn't wanna seem *too* invested. Looking back, it's incredibly stupid, considering I was flipping over the whole Paige thing. And please, like they don't know how invested I am already.

Maybe I was afraid of the answer. Maybe I didn't wanna know that it hurt her. Or, maybe… I didn't wanna hear that it didn't.

I was also terrified of asking if she was seeing anyone. It's so silly, even if she isn't, how am I to know that she'd want me back?

But just like magic, after three years, I've read something that she herself texted, something she said, with no filters. Add to that all the things the girls managed to tell me before we got hammered, and I felt overwhelmed all of a sudden. I was getting some sort of picture about her and her life.

Here's what I've gathered so far:

She's in Paris. Still. She loves it there. I guess I wish she didn't. So it would seem that the entire reason for our breakup, wanting to travel, wanting to return to Paris, ended up not being worth it. But it was never just about Paris. Not really.

She's slowly but surely building her reputation as an acclaimed artist. She has an agent. I, more than anyone, understand that an agent is a big step. I wonder how different it is in art versus showbiz. I wish I could just ask her all that. More than anything, I miss our conversations. She got me like no one else. We were in sync, almost always.

Okay. I also miss her smile. And smell. And arms around me.

Dammit, I miss the whole thing.

They also said that she still swims, and jogs. She hasn't been home for Christmas since she moved there (like I don't know that. I totally stalked her house). They've all seen her a few times since she left. Spence and Hanna visited her there (and didn't tell me. Of course), Aria met her when Paige came home to visit her parents.

And it seems like the only thing they couldn't really answer, was if she was happy.

They were pretty vague.

Is something missing in her life? I hope something is missing in her life. Can that something be me?

My god, let it be me. Because if it is, then there's at least something I can do about it.

Thinking about all of this, makes me wonder if it is still possible for me to have a life with her, if it's not all lost for good.

The small part within me which says (screams, really) "yes", makes my entire body shiver. I feel anxious.

This is ridiculous. I *already* had a life with this person. And she chose to end that chapter.

Which brings me back to Cassie and the fact that Paige made me have a life with someone else.

Am I just obsessing over something completely hopeless?

I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder.

"Hey, Em, you alright?"

It was Spencer. She was sleeping next to me. She still seems a bit out of it.

"Hmmm… yeah, sorry. Have I been noisy?"

"You mean by lying here completely still and not making a sound? Oh, yeah, extremely loud."

"You just woke up Spence! How can you manage sarcasm before you even had your first coffee?!"

"Well, that's my middle name. 'Manages sarcasm before the first coffee'. Made it official two years ago and forgot to tell you. A bit long, I know, but gives me some street cred."

She is priceless. She gets up and bam, her mind is ready to go. I can't help but laugh.

"Shhh! I know I'm hilarious, but please, some consideration!" she points at the other two sleeping girls.

I giggle again. But quietly. Then she says:

"I was worried about you. How long have you been up?"

"Not sure I actually slept at all."

"Oh, I'm totally not done with sleeping yet. And you should do it too. We wanna have more fun today…"

"I don't know if I can."

"Thinking about her?" she asked, a huge yawn followed.

"And nothing but her."

She smiles at me gently. Not wanting to over step. Probably not sure what would count as over stepping anymore. I can tell she feels bad, so I change the subject.

"So, pulling a little Coyote Ugly in a bra last night, ah?"

"My god, I was soooo wasted!"

"Yeah, you were a total zombo."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"A zombie hobo. Spread the word."

She smiles and yawns again.

"Nice. Then I shall start by being a zombo some more. Love you."

"Love you too."

She turns around to go back to sleep and I can't help but smile at the whole thing.

Then she turns back to me and hands me her cell phone.

"Here. This is something she drew yesterday and texted to me last night. She's going to kill me if she finds out I showed it to you, but I guess I need to start making up for the three years that made *you* wanna kill me".

She gives me a small smile and goes back to sleep. Or at least pretends too.

I look at the picture. It's breath taking. I haven't seen any of Paige's creations in ages, and she's grown so much. I immediately email it to myself so I can see it on a bigger screen later, and save it on my computer. You know, under that Paige folder that I've never deleted.

And then there's something else. Something that makes my heart beat faster.

This picture is a picture of a girl. Well, a girl's back.

And that girl, was me. No doubt about it.


	13. Chapter 12

No doubt that today would be the down part of the whole "ups and downs" thing.

I *did* get up like a crazy person to run, after sleeping for like 40 minutes. I said to myself that I have to use the momentum. But the thing is, I got home, saw the painting of Em, and yeah, it *is* her, and I thought to myself 'What are you doing?!' I mean, I spent all day yesterday painting my ex, whom I haven't seen or talked to in 3 years, and whom I'm very much still in love with.

You see, sometimes, when someone happens to be the love of one's life, but circumstances (like let's say, stupid me), take you apart, you don't get over that person. Your love for the person is just on hold for a while. Even if you don't realize it.

In two words: This blows.

I mean, don't get me wrong. I spent all morning trying to get back on track. Like maybe painting something else, or taking the camera and heading out. But, every time I get decisive and walk into the living room, I see that painting still there and I go back in my tracks.

That's how I ended up cleaning the bathroom, kitchen, and my room. You see, these three rooms are on this side of the living room, while the guest room, storage and dining area, are out there. I'm *not* going out there!

There are dangerous things out there! Unexplained things!

Meh. I can't stay here. I guess it's as good a day as any to do some of my Christmas shopping. Considering I need to ship it to Rosewood soon, and that I'm really behind (lying depressed at home all day will do that to you), I better do it.

Oh, Christmas. I haven't been home for Christmas since… well, since the breakup.

First time around, I was traveling. Hadn't settled in here yet. Saw some more of Europe, some of Asia. I believe that during Christmas itself I was in Israel. Oh yeah. It was a very interesting experience. Not that I'm religious (forgive me father, and I mean *my* father), but still, being where Christ was born on Christmas? It's very different from being in a Christian country. I promise you that. Also, they had Hanukah so that was interesting.

Then, the following year, I was already in Paris. I suppose I could've gone home. I'm sure you can imagine that my mom isn't too happy about my skipping habit of the past few years.

The excuse I used last year was that I really wanted to experience Christmas in France. Papa Noel and all that jazz. But since the real excuse was that I was terrified I'd bump into Em - and I think my parents knew that - they flew in. Which admittedly, was amazing. Christmas in the city of lights, is full of, wait for it… lights. That's right. And since my birthday is just a week before Christmas, it was a double treat.

Plus, getting my dad anywhere out of Rosewood is always good. He gets more laid back. He would even walk around in sandals. I know. Shocking. But it was such a lovely Christmas. We drank good wine all the time, I had an exhibition on. They came with me the night my painting was sold. They were so proud and I felt really happy.

But a few months later I met Renée and then things really went all downhill from there, and that brings us here.

My birthday is 2 weeks away, Christmas is 3, and I feel anything but celebratory. You know how sometimes when you're miserable, you'll make a decision to make yourself even more miserable, so that you can complain about being miserable?

Yeah, so that.

Pretty much not going home this year, because I… feel too crappy to go. That's right. Once again, it also means that I really don't wanna bump into Em. And just so we're clear? When I say 'I don't wanna bump into her', I actually mean that there's nothing I'd rather do. But, I won't recover from it. Hell, look at me, I'm completely *not* recovered from the last time I saw her.

Anyways, I told my mom that work is crazy, which might've been true if I had done anything in the past couple of months.

Bottom line of all this madness, is that I need to get out of here and at least get gifts.

If you wonder if Em and I have been wishing happy holidays and such to each other, then the answer is no. Complete sharp cut after the breakup. Otherwise I just don't think I would've handled it.

That said, I have a box under my bed which is full of gifts for her that I've collected through the years. From my travels and for holidays, and… birthdays. Every now and then I take it out, look through it and tell myself that it's finally time to send it all to her. I also imagine the huge grin she'll have when she gets it all. Then, I imagine her being upset and unhappy, or worse, indifferent, and I push it back under the bed.

Humans are stupid creatures. The amount of self doubts and ideas we feed ourselves and are simply not true… I really don't get us. Jesus I don't even make sense *now*! But, I'm part of this club, so by definition, I'm a stupid creature.

I should get Emily something. Maybe I'll actually send it this time. Right.

I reach for a nice tank top (dressing according to the weather was never my strongest suit. No pun intended), and my phone beeps.

It's a text message, from Spencer.

"So there was a whole deal last night about you being a monster, right? I clearly remember a talk of the sort."

I smile at the message. What time is it over there now? If it's 5 PM in here, so should be 11 AM in there.

"Kinda early for a morning after a heavy drinking, don't you think, Spence?"

"Oh trust me. This is good. I woke up a few hours ago. Wasn't pretty."

"I bet."

"Now, now, don't get snarky with me! How are you doing? That new painting was beautiful by the way. Gonna send it to your agent?"

"Already did, last night. She loved it too."

"That's great Paige. I'm really happy for this new energy. So, any specific muse to this specific painting?"

"Oh, come on Spence. You know the answer to that. But, since you brought it up, how is she?"

The next text isn't from Spencer I'm afraid. It's Renée.

She wants to meet for coffee. Great. As a friend of mine once said, things just went from worse to worser.

But I know I should do it. Renée isn't exactly the most sensitive of them all, but I don't wanna be that way myself. I've made so many mistakes. But how can one complain that the same thing happens to her over and over again, if one doesn't break her bad habits, change the pattern?

Might as well meet her face to face and explain to her why I've lost interest.

The problem is that my reasoning makes no sense. Not even to myself.

Maybe if I just pretend and act all calm, it'll sound like a legitimate explanation. Maybe.


	14. Chapter 13

I was pretty calm for the rest of the weekend because I had a game plan. The girls might have been a bit suspicious about how lovely I was, but they feared of ruining the delicate balance, so they didn't say a thing. That is how we actually managed to have fun. And the fact that I asked them a few more questions before we truly dropped the subject, helped with the illusion that it was all fine.

One of these questions was how did Paige reacted after hearing about Cassie. It bothered me so much, that I just knew I couldn't wait any longer for an answer.

Spencer wasn't too pleased. But I couldn't tell if it was because she was worried about me being invested, or about my reaction to the answer.

"Well, to be honest, Em, she wasn't too happy."

I smiled.

"But you also have to know, she's been with other people, Em. She had relationships, just like you did."

I didn't smile any more.

I know it's not fair of me. Of course she had other relationships, yes, just like me. It makes sense. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. Maybe denial was a blessing after all?

No. It's always better to know.

When Spencer saw I was lost in my thoughts, she grabbed my hands and said:

"Em, you two are a life time apart, but you were also together for what seemed like a life time. And what you two have been through, most people don't go through until they are way way older, and sometimes, never at all. Your bond is unbreakable. For better or worse, I get it, I do. But I just don't want either of you to suffer, and so whatever you'd think is best, I'd respect."

It warmed my heart. The sincerity. The love. I really couldn't be mad anymore.

She turned to grab something, then looked back at me.

"I *am* gonna say though, and it's all I'm gonna add on the matter… you've seen that drawing."

We nodded to each other, and that was it.

We had two more days of fun, and we intended to use them. Minimal sightseeing for the 'practically NYC pros' us, and loads of group drinking. I let everything sink in, and since it did, I felt like my mind was clearer than it's been for a very long time, I could truly let go, and enjoy myself. That said, the girls didn't know that even with that, I was just at ease. It's not that I didn't have Paige on my mind.

Aria and Ezra are both proud faculty members at the Harvard English department. Those two. Always so by the book. Except of course for the whole student/teacher relationship beginning. Well, Aria is *almost* an official member of the faculty. She's getting her Phd. He already has it. So basically yeah, a couple of nerds. We know it, they know it, might as well come out and say it.

Spencer, well, I wish I knew. I just know that she's important for national safety, and she might just be listening to my private phones calls.

Hanna is getting really big as a fashion designer. We figured we'd feed off each other's talents, and finally found a fun concept for a project. It's gonna be water related. Maybe a new line of bathing suits with really cool prints on them. I'm gonna let her figure out the artsy details, of course. I just know that at some point, we'll rent a pool and a photographer for a day, and go crazy.

Maybe Paige could send Hanna some cool prints for the line?

Oh, come on Em. You really shouldn't be thinking about all of that. Not yet anyways.

And so, back to sunny LA now, not for long though.

I'm sitting in front of my laptop and looking at Paige's drawing that I sent from Spencer's phone. Now I wanna find the rest of her art that I have. It's not much, but I really need it right now. I've waited all weekend long to get back and explore how I feel about all of this.

I pull the box from under the couch. Yep. The – 'would be marked with a tiny shark' box.

The one where Paige's plaid shirt was.

There is a little metal box with a vintage look, and inside of it, there are many photos. But it's not what I'm looking for and it might just be a little bit too much. The real life version of digging into an ex's Facebook profile.

And here's what I was looking for. A pile of 15 photos, with a purple ribbon around them, and a note on the top.

"My Love,

Let this be called 'Paige's first "achievement" as an artist'.

Since no one will ever cherish them as much as you will, and since it was followed by an amazing night, I want you to have them.

Yours I'm keeping for myself. For research purposes, and my personal growth as an artist.

Love, your gorgeous girlfriend."

Oh, if you could only see the wide smile I have on my face right now. I forgot about this note. But not really.

I untie the ribbon and start going through the pictures. It was Paige's first assignment in photography class. She had to take some portraits in black and white. She did a few of herself before she headed to my dorms and as I opened the door, the first thing I saw was flash in my eyes. Some girlfriend!

But these pictures bring back so many memories.

Here's the one of hers brushing her teeth, the one of her coming out of the shower. She had an amazing sense of humor. No one could make me laugh like she did, just by being silly. And so incredibly original and creative.

Sigh.

What else?

Oh, this one. She's just leaning on the door of her dorm room, wearing long pants, but of course, one of the pant legs is folded up. Just a bit under knee height. Such is the Paige way.

This makes me smile. I love it. I always did. You know how you learn the tiny habits of your love? It makes me feel like home. Isn't it silly? That something like that, specifically, can make you feel like home?

But it absolutely hit me in the stomach in an unexpected way. And now, I miss her, so much, like never before. Just from this little pants things.

And as a grand finale, I just got to my favorite picture of hers. It's so simple. But she placed the self timer perfectly. She always had a good eye. She was sitting on the bed, completely centered within the frame.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, and looked at the camera, smirking.

This photo is the essence of all things Paige. First, she took it herself. Paige is very independent. She likes to achieve things on her own. Second, it is so precise. Her position within the center. She's a perfectionist. Then there's her semi shyness and timidness in the way that she wraps her hands around her legs, but also something challenging about her smirk. She was the biggest of teasers, but her eyes in this picture showed the truth – that once she lets you in, she really lets you in.

She never got why I loved it so much. I teased her about it having some hidden meaning. I loved to see her struggle. I also knew she wanted to hear compliments about herself. Torturing her about it was fun. Especially since we both knew there was no harm done. She was my girlfriend, she gave me a picture of herself which she took and I adored, and that was enough.

I put the entire pile by my bedside. Keeping my favorite one on the top. I could stare at it forever. I just might.


	15. Chapter 14

Getting out of the stores took forever.

I guess many people didn't wanna stare at a painting of their exs , and left home to do some shopping. That, or it just occurred to more people that Christmas is coming up.

Either way: Jesus Christ!

I'm back at home now, and I can say whole heartedly – never again.

I'm sure I say that every year, but still. I should've learned from last year. Christmas time in Paris is crazy. It's not like when you live in Rosewood and shop in the mall, or head to Philly, the big city. This *is* the big city. *This* is where people come to for shopping. Not to mention, tourism. Seriously, memo to self, next year, buy everything online. I would've done that now, if I wasn't so desperate to just head out of my apartment.

Will I even be here next year?

Why wouldn't I?

Funny, a month ago I'd never question that. What changed? Is it possible that in my deluded mind I believe I'll actually make changes this year? There's only one change that I really care to make.

Great. You can take the girl out of the Emily, but you can't take the Emily out of the girl.

My god. Nothing about that sentence sounded appropriate. But you know what I mean!

I bought Em this really nice necklace that I know she'd love. It's made of gold, I like it. Most of the money I make is from work that features her *anyways*, so I guess, in an awkward way, it makes her my business partner. A very silent partner that is.

Will this be just another addition to the "Em box" under your bed, P? Or can you *actually* spend Christmas somewhere else next year.

Ha, "P". I used to disapprove of that nickname so much, and now I'm using it while talking to myself.

Which is disturbing enough as it is.

And also, how can I even think about next year? A few hours ago I figured I'd always be alone and now this? The way my mind goes back and forth can beat every reality show out there.

But, enough of *that* fun. Like shop hell wasn't enough, I had to meet Renée. The girl isn't used to not getting what she wants. Even if she only wants that thing when she's bored, and has no real emotional

attachment to said thing. Other than that 'thing' being a constant ego booster. People like her, hate to lose 'things' like *these*.

Of course I, being the queen of self sabotage that I am, had to fall in love with such a nasty person, and let it go on for way too long. I have the tendency to want what is bad for me, and to throw away what is great and amazing for me. Not to mention, knows exactly what to do with my body in order to drive me insane.

But I'm not referring to anyone or anything in particular.

So Renée insisted on meeting for coffee. I don't know what scared me more. That meeting her would give me the usual butterflies, which is bad, because, well, *she* is bad, or that it wouldn't. Which, let's face it, will show just how much impact, Em (and no one else) has on me, from thousands of miles away. Either scenario is scary, and doesn't say good things about my emotional stability. Or let's say sanity.

So I met with her. Scary option number two is the one that happened, even though she was on top of her game. You see, you'd assume when someone asks you for coffee, it's gonna be all casual. But no no, while I was all sweaty, carrying tons of bags, after the shopping inferno, she was just sitting there, looking incredibly sexy. She's nothing like Em. They are completely different types of sexy. She has this European type of beauty. I mean, she's French. Their accents are sexy enough as it is, and she's your ultimate Femme Fatale.

I was looking at her, and it just hit me, that maybe this is how it always has to be. I'm a person who tends to mess things up. So maybe it's my destiny to always be chained to people who use me and make me feel like crap. Because that way, these destructive people make sure that I'm not out there in the world, hurting someone who's whole, and wonderful.

Well, maybe that *is* the case. How very optimistic. But I wasn't gonna let it happen today, not with her, and not without a fight. Paige McCullers is turning her life around. Which is why I ran outside of the apartment today. Escaped, if to be accurate, from an intimidating painting. Oh yes, I ran away from a canvas. That's to show you my bravery. Major life changes are just around the corner. I hope you read the sarcasm in all of what I just said.

Why don't I let you in on some of the coffee fun times? Ready? I doubt it.

"Bonjour, Paige."

"Hey Ren, how've you been?"

"I've been fantastic (insert gorgeous French accent in here). I've missed you. It's been a while. You've been ignoring my calls."

"Yeah… sorry about that. I've been really busy." (Lie number 1. Also, yeah, busy with painting my Ex).

And then we had a bit of small talk, didn't last too long, before Renée said -

"Well, can we pick up from where we stopped?"

I have no idea how I actually managed to say the following thing, maybe it was the emotional frustration from the past few weeks. Or maybe, from a sleepless night, then a day of cleaning and staring at my ex. Oh, yeah, it could also be the shopping. Anyways, here's what I said –

"Remind me again Renée, where *did* we stop? Hm? Are you talking about the part in which you made me fall in love with you, or the part where you wanted it to happen just so you can toy with me? Or wait, how about the part where you come in and out of town, go to one of your many other lapdogs, and I'm lucky if I get anything at all?"

She was shocked for a second, as was I, but you don't know her. She's 100% evil fierceness, and while I was still shocked, she recovered.

"Well how are you to know that you're not my favorite lapdog? I thought we both understood the arrangement here."

"First of all, I can't believe those words just actually came out of your mouth. Second of all, what arrangement? You knowing that I'm in love with you and letting me think we actually have a chance just to completely ignore it a week later? You just use me. I'm over it."

"You know that I don't like when people change the rules of my game, Paige."

"Well, as you said, it's *your* game. And I don't want to play anymore."

"It's because of that girl from the picture in your drawer, isn't it?"

"No! (lie number 2. Of course it's a yes. Then -) Wait, what?! Why were you going through my drawer? Notice how it's *my* drawer?"

"Please, Paige. We both know how you feel about me. If it's yours, then it's mine. Stop getting all worked up. You liked being treated this way. That's your thing."

I was so shocked, and upset. Partially because I knew she was right. That's how I punished myself. But know this: she didn't let me see that side of her when we just met, but I clearly knew soon enough, and it didn't change the fact that I let her play with me like this. She might think she knows me, but she doesn't know me when I *truly* get my head around a certain idea. Or when I'm really mad. And at that moment, I was both. I stood up, shaking, and grabbed my things.

"We're done here. I'm not kidding. Don't bother to call, or show up. I can't promise I'll play nice if you do."

She just smiled at me, but I turned from her and walked away.

I had a feeling it's not the last I've heard of her. But whatevs. I'm a Rosewood girl. If need be, a restraining order can be a last resort. No, I kid. She really hates to lose, she can't get no for an answer, but she's not a crazy stalker. I would know. I've met one of those. And it didn't end well for him.

Nate.

Sigh.

Em said to me once, that she knew I loved her the night I told her about Alison. I knew she loved me that night, after she killed him.

She was the one who killed someone, yet I was the one to tremble in her arms.

I held it all together until then, tried to give her what she needed. But that moment she came over and I saw her on my doorstep, I just fell apart.

My legs couldn't hold me any longer, and I crashed right there in front of her, into the floor. It wasn't even a second before she joined me. I will never forget that moment.

No matter how long ago it was, it's clear as a picture in my head.


	16. Chapter 15

If you think that finding these pictures was enough? Think again.

There's something else. And for this, I need to go to the storage space which luckily is in my apartment. The perks of starting to earn a nice amount of money.

The only reason these two beauties are in storage, are because of Cassie. I didn't want to have to explain. But she's been gone for a while, and I'm going through something here, so I think it's time to bring them back to the light.

At the end of Paige's second year in college, she had her "halfway through the degree exhibition". That is the unofficial name everyone gave it. It was actually called "Second Year Final Exhibition".

The art students got to exhibit their paintings, sketches in different stages, photos, and sculpts.

They were a small group, and so every student got a corner, and could exhibit up to 6 works. A panel had to approve them. It was at a really nice gallery in Philly, and all the proceeds went to charity. Lovely event that made the students really happy. Every year each one sold at least one work.

Paige got to exhibit all 6 of her works, which is rare. Needless to say, she was a wreck in the days before, fearing she wouldn't sell a thing. She got back from Paris the semester before, and we finally moved in together, realizing that we didn't wanna spend any more time apart. So I'd seen her working hard on these babies every single day.

She was very sexy when she was working. Baggy clothes, exposed arms (and her beautiful shoulders), and tons of paint stains all over her clothes and face. So cute.

I came home early one day, music was loud, and behold, there was my girlfriend, painting in nothing but a bra and underwear, her body was full of paint. What a turn on.

Let's just say that I surprised her, and in no time at all, we found ourselves rolling in paint on the nylon that covered the floor. It was so liberating and full of passion, and easily categorized as one of the best moments of my life. We wondered how we hadn't thought of doing *that* before. We were so happy. Really living the dream. Reunited, we both went to school, lived together, she was creating. I just knew that it was forever, that I could never feel like this with anyone else.

God, I already know all this. Why did it take me so long to remember?

I'm not insane here, right? If a girl who broke up with me 3 years ago, still paints me, it means something, right? God. I've lost all perspective. I don't know if I'm determined to fight for something I believe in, or I'm just obsessing.

Anyways, I'm putting the paintings in front of me now. Laying them on the living room's wall so I can get a good look at them.

The first one was based on a photo she took during the time I visited her in Paris.

We rented a suit in a hotel. Being alone in her cozy tiny apartment was an amazing experience, but for just the one night, we wanted to treat ourselves. You know, Champagne, a room with a crazy view (we had a little balcony! A balcony!), a Jacuzzi. We were away from home for Christmas, but it really didn't mean it wasn't gonna be a holiday to remember. Especially since Christmas also meant Paige's birthday, so when we were together, Christmas time was a time ofs festivities.

We stood out on the balcony. She was standing behind me, arms wrapped around me. We didn't say a single word for a while, just enjoyed each other's presence quietly.

She sniffed my hair and sighed and kissed my neck gently.

"I love you," she whispered in my ear.

I turned around and said "I love you too," then kissed her softly.

Then she added "also, don't move."

And then she left for a few moments and came back carrying her camera.

I smiled at her.

"P! Come on! Not now!"

Once she took the camera out, there was no stopping her.

"You don't need to do anything, Em, just be. Forget that I'm even here."

Yeah, like that was possible. So I just sighed, turned back to the view, and was trying to take it all in. And she was right. After a while I stopped hearing the clicking of the camera, and then I felt a breath next to my ear as Paige moved my hair and whispered "So beautiful. Breathtaking."

"Thanks," I said.

"Not you, Em, the view," she said with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up you idiot."

I pulled her towards me and kissed her.

She smiled at me, then asked "How much of a cliché is it if I wanna take a picture of this view? I mean, it's Paris, it's too familiar to be unique, don't you think?"

I always loved it when she asked for my opinion, especially when it was about her work.

"It's never about *what* you do, Paige. It's about *how* you do it, and what's behind it. At least for me."

She smiled at me and I could tell that she was really touched. She took a picture of the famous skyline, and later on, she used that picture to do the painting I'm looking at now. Most of it is black and white, though the original picture wasn't, but random things are in color. She said she wanted to feel the old vs. the new, the cold vs. the warm, and this was her way to achieve that. It was beautiful.

The second painting was of a forest. For our one year anniversary I surprised her and took her for a weekend away. I didn't tell her where, but my aunt had this nice cabin in the woods, just by a small creek. It was really beautiful and I figured we both deserved a re-do to our prior cabin in the woods experience. Maybe have some new, nicer memories. It was such an amazing weekend. Change of sight. She was genuinely happy and when I woke up in the morning to find an empty bed, I rushed outside and saw her standing by the creek. Her eyes were shut and she was smiling. I never told her that she freaked me out by not being in bed, I couldn't. She was so peaceful at that moment that I just looked at her and smiled too.

A year and half later, I walked into the apartment to see her drawing with her eyes shut. I closed the door so I won't scare her when I approach her, and she heard me and turned around.

"Hello my love. How was your day?"

I didn't even answer because I saw the painting. It was breath taking. The small cabin, the creek with the small waterfalls, beautiful.

"Oh my god, Paige, are you drawing from memory?!"

She blushed a bit. She did that sometimes when people acknowledged her crazy talent out loud.

"Hmm… yeah. I closed my eyes and I could hear it all."

"Like in the morning when you were standing by the creek."

"How did you…" then she realized, and smiled, and came over to kiss me.

Looking at these two paintings now, there are as beautiful as I remembered. I couldn't say goodbye to them, they were too personal to me. I knew I was gonna buy them. I called in advance to make sure that they saved them for me. It was also my way of making sure some of Paige's work got sold, and there was no way I wasn't not gonna be the first costumer of the love of my life.

When we got to the gallery, these two painting had a sign that said "sold" next to them. Paige was shocked. When she asked who the buyer was and was given my name, she said "Em, what are you doing! I can paint you anything you want, and it'll be for free!"

"Sorry, P, I wanted to pay for an original Paige McCullers to hang in the living room. Totally worth the price."

"You already have an original Paige McCullers hanging around the living room."

"And I'm sure she'll show me just how much she loves me, later on."

"Oh, she will. I really love that you're my first buyer, Em. Thanks."

I smiled at her, took a step forward, grabbed her shirt and kissed her.

One of her class mates passed by and yelled at her.

"McCullers! Someone just bought that weird sculpt you made! You're on a roll tonight!"

She looked at me, not believing what was going on.

Then she had that smirk of hers and said –

"I'm not so sure about later, Em. I'm a professional now. I shouldn't mix business with pleasure."

"Every rule has an exception," I said and kissed her again.

We leaned our foreheads against one another, our subtle PDA that was really sweet if you ask me, not that I'm objective.

I looked into her eyes and said -

"'Things are changing. Can you feel it? Things are changing, and for the better."


	17. Chapter 16

Ok, here's the deal. I've been feeling like… the wind is changing. I don't mean to go all Pocahontas on you, especially since you already know that that's *Em's* Disney's character. But it's like there's another presence in my life lately, and it's been driving me crazy. I'm not using an expression in here, I think I mean quite literally.

I don't know what is it about the past few weeks, and it's not like I didn't have similar… 'episodes' before, but it's like something is calling me. Calling me and telling me to come home.

Maybe I was just simmering all this time, and I finally reached the boiling point. Now all the pain and craziness I caused myself are about to blow in my face. I'm on the verge of losing it, and being alone on my birthday *and* Christmas aren't gonna make me feel any better either, but, I did it to myself, and I had a reason.

I swear I'm not being redundant, just extremely bipolar.

Because if I look back on the past few weeks, I'm sure I sound like an average teenager going through god knows what.

One day is really good then one is really shitty and I can't predict anymore, but the one thing I do know with clarity, is that something has to change. And somehow, it is changing.

Renée is only the first step I'm hoping. And it's funny, because Em was the trigger. It's like she's helping me to make all the right choices even without being present. It seems like Em was always the force behind me turning into a better person. For the sake of the people around me, *and* for myself. I mean, look at my art. I'm at my best when I let her lead my creation.

And how can she not be the driving force? We've both been through so much, but she let those experiences make her a better human being. The "never again do this, that and that" kind of person. *I* on the other hand, let experiences corrupt me. It's like, when I'm good, I'm really good, when I'm bad, I'm really bad. With Em… When she's good, she's really good, and when she's bad, she's still really good.

Of course she's not perfect, no one is. But she'd be my finalist if there was ever a reality show to pick the next heavenly angel. And I'm sure she'd win the audience choice anyways, what with all dudes and lesbians voting for her.

That night, after Nate, when she came over, I can't get that night out of my head.

Probably because we were both being good that night. Well, I was good, she was better.

I knew Hanna needed her more than I did, and later, she knew I needed her more than she needed me.

When you think about it, she should've been the most traumatized one, but instead, she held me as I crashed to the floor of my porch. She said "sorry it took me so long", led me up to my bedroom, and

held my crying self, until I fell asleep in her arms. My parents saw her come in and they all just exchanged nods. They didn't dare to say a word. They knew that she could probably do way more for me, than they could.

I was lying in her arms and I didn't say a word. I just cried for a very long time and she didn't try to stop me. She started kissing me on my forehead, cheeks, nose and every other part of my face.

I stopped crying slowly. She got up, turned off the light quickly so as to not stay away from me for longer than necessary, and headed right back into bed, where she held me tight.

I drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

I woke up around 3 AM. I was slightly panicked because I was being held tightly, but then I saw who it was, and the world seemed to make sense again. I looked at Em, the moon lit a portion of her face. She was so beautiful, and asleep, but looking at her face, it was clear she was crying too, probably shortly before falling asleep.

I was washed with guilt. I put myself before her, and I promised myself in that moment, that it would never happen again. Today, we know it did, because I'm an idiot.

But that night, looking at her like this, asking myself why would she do that for me, it hit me just how much she loved me. She loved me so much that she was acting completely selfless under crazy circumstances. It was so weird because… because I never thought we'd get to where we were.

As I was thinking about it, I felt so much love just taking over me.

That's when she started talking in her sleep. She always did, but for a while, after Nate, there was an increase in the amount. And the content wasn't as cute as the times when she was talking to dolphins.

First time we slept together, and I mean just sleeping, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear her speak about how much she wanted to get a perm. I know.

I was terrified both from her talking, and the idea of Em with a perm, so I woke her up gently and told her she was talking in her sleep.

"Oh, yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that it happens, sorry. Haven't slept with anyone for quite some time. How bad was it?"

"Well… you wanted to get a perm…"

"Oh my god!"

"I know."

"Okay, Paige, I need you to do me a favor. Let's make a pact. If we are together at night and it's clear that I'm having a nightmare, or, some other "wise" fashion ideas, please, do wake me up."

"You sure it can't be harmful to be pulled away from your sleep?"

"To be pulled away from nightmare land into a land in which I wake up and find you by my side? I think I'll manage, thank you very much."

"Okay then, perm lady. You got yourself a deal."

"Great, signed with a kiss?"

"You bet." I said and leaned in to kiss her, then I cuddled her and whispered in her ear –

"A perm. Ha."

"Oh, shut up."

And we fell asleep.

Yeah, the memory makes me smile, always. Especially since the day after, I photoshopped Em with a perm, and until the last day of high school, that's the picture of hers I had in my locker. It became a hit among everyone other than her. Obviously.

But the night with Nate, was one of the nightmare nights. I looked at her in the darkness as she started to say that she was sorry, and that there was so much blood. She started to shake. I filled my end of the bargain and woke her up by whispering her name in her ear and caressing her arm. She woke up in a panic and I just brought her closer to me.

"Oh, god, Paige, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like this".

How could she be so selfless when she's clearly falling apart?

I kissed her forehead and said, "you're the most selfless person I've ever met in my life, and it makes me think that you're a goddess. Since I have a feeling it'll be pointless to tell you to never neglect your needs because of me, how about we take turns, okay?"

She smiled at me, a bit more relaxed, and replied with "okay".

This time around, I held *her* and let her fall asleep, but I still felt very guilty about that night.

When I remember that night, is when I feel guilty the most. This is when I feel I don't deserve something good. But I wanna be worthy of something good, because I ache for something good. And with the right person, I *was* worthy. I'm just afraid of myself. And that fear turned my life into this unbreakable cycle of repeating the same mistakes.

Well, *almost* unbreakable, right?


	18. Chapter 17

Sometimes life is about almosts. The things you almost had and slipped right between your fingers.

Also known as – recipe for regrets. And you know what? I'm not okay with almosts, and I'm not okay with regrets, and I'm done sitting and wondering 'what if?'

And so, it's been a week since I hung these paintings back up, and you'd think I'm mad, but I'm going to Paris.

I booked the tickets back when I was in NYC, duh.

And too bad if Paige will feel like this is an invasion of personal space. I have things to say and things to find out, and just for once, maybe I should put my will before hers. For both our sakes.

Because clearly, she has no idea what she's doing. By being without me that is.

I didn't tell the girls, there's a slight chance that they'd kill me, but I didn't want any more doubts. I wanted to go. You know how hard it was spending the weekend with the girls already knowing I was gonna do this? I'm amazed Spencer didn't get suspicious, but I guess she was just feeling too guilty, still.

I'm giving myself one week, until her birthday, to bump into her. Hopefully she still visits some of her favorite places from her older Paris days. She showed me all of them, so I'm going to gracefully stalk, or, as I like to call it, 'occasionally pass by a random place, with no specified intention'.

Oh man. Paige's birthday. Being with her on her birthday. This is either gonna be super romantic, or the biggest of all fails. I mean, I can either find myself spending another Christmas with her in Paris, or be on a plane in a week from now. Honestly? If she turns me down, I wouldn't even know how to start collecting the pieces.

I think a part of me always knew that we'd have *some* sort of a closure. I guess all people look for it. You know, when something doesn't go as you plan, you think maybe it's timing, maybe circumstances, and that maybe one day, things *will* change, and you'll get a real shot.

I remember feeling like that with Alison. I mean, yeah, I wasn't ready to say that I was gay out loud, but let's be realistic here, I knew. With the way I felt about Ali? I knew. And she kissed me, because people are cruel that way sometimes, and they like to have power over you, but I remember just thinking 'one day, she'll be ready'. Because sometimes we think that just coz we're feeling something, it's crazy that the other side doesn't feel it too. How can we go through something so deep that involves another person, without thinking that the other person would be there with us too? *That's* the really crazy thing if you ask me.

And then with Maya, I always figured 'when she gets back from camp, maybe we'll have a real shot', and we did. Until she died.

And Paige? With Paige it was all about timing since day one.

Maybe we met too soon, but I never regretted it.

I never regretted anything that had to do with Paige. How could I? The one regret I do have, isn't about Paige, it's about me. When we just got together for the first time, I wasn't truly there for her. She was struggling with coming out, and I broke things off even though I didn't really want too. Even though things would have been easier for her if I hadn't. But I think I knew even back then. I knew that this girl could make my heart do flips, and I saw myself getting really invested in a person that couldn't give herself to me 100%. It was so scary for me. How stupid was I? She totally gave herself to me 100%. She didn't let *herself* have me 100%, and I didn't get it. But it's just like today.

My only excuse is that I was very young, and didn't know better, or didn't *want* to know any better. But I know better now. And maybe it'll always be like that. Maybe she'll always have these doubts which I know are really self doubts, from her fear of ending up hurting *me*, but I can handle it. Because, if we're being really honest here, there's nothing else I can do. She's the love of my life. Four years together after a first glimpse that ended sharply. 4 years, then 3 years apart, with relationships and feelings for other people, and yet nothing has changed. So what else can it be? What else can *she* be if not the person I'm supposed to be with forever and ever? *I* know it, all my friends know it, and she must know it too, but I guess it's time I reminded her.

Because remember what I said about craziness and that there's just no way the other person doesn't feel it too? Yeah, so there's just no way that I'm going *this* crazy, and she's not there with me.

So I'm done sitting, and I'm done waiting, three years is long enough. Grow up already, McCullers, and if you won't I'll just kick your ass back to the land of common sense, like I always do. Because really, if this doesn't work out, I'm done. I'm channeling all of my energy towards this one extremely important thing. I'm on the verge of being emotionally worn out after these past couple of months, but I'm using everything I have left. It's like I'm high on adrenaline. This feels like a swim meet. And guess what? I usually won. And you know what else? Paige was always there, right by my side. I mean, not literally, because that would be the lane of the other team, but you get me.

Jesus, I probably sound like a crazy person. Well you know what? I never acted out very much (Okay, yes, I killed a person, but it was totally his fault. Like, he literally ran into my knife. 10 times).Maybe a little bit of crazy isn't too bad.

And yes, I'm not gonna lie. I'm anxious. Man, now that I've said it, I'm actually petrified.

What if she'll be mad? What if she*does* have someone and Spencer doesn't know about it? I don't think I could handle seeing her with someone else.

Oh god, what if her birthday/Christmas gift breaks in the trunk?! What was I thinking putting a snow globe in the suitcase for heaven's sake! It's glass! Fields you are a mess. It was all fine 5 minutes ago. What? Just because they announced we're an hour away from landing? So what. Worst case scenario you'll just have a nice trip in Paris. You used to love it.

Oh crap the snow globe.

Oh, yeah, that.

So, Paige can be really cheesy sometimes, and believe it or not, she collects them. It is a conquering thing though. She gets one from every country she visits. She used to say she hopes to have as many as she can, and by that she meant she wanted to see the world. She got to travel a lot as a kid during breaks. She went to Europe a lot, but I remember her saying she never got to do it her own way, which is why it was so important for her to go to Paris. Get her own experiences.

Maybe I *am* just being selfish. Maybe this is really what she needs. This freedom.

But then, why would she stay in Paris for so long?

She doesn't need freedom. She needs home.

Which is why I got her a Rosewood snow globe. Yes, they exist. Who would've thought? I had to get it on ebay, and have it delivered to me in one day. It cost a little fortune, but if she'd love it, it'll be all worth it.

Oh my god, the screen says 50 minutes till landing.

Gulp.


	19. Chapter 18

Gulp.

Seriously, when you work out and sweat like a pig, water is like nectar.

Today I'm all about the positivity again.

Haven't heard from Renée which makes me extremely happy, I ran for hours, knowing I'd probably stay in for the next few days, and now I'm putting my snow globes on the edges of the windows. I guess it kinda became my little tradition. I mean, you know what? I refuse to sit around moping when it's so close to Christmas. The least I can do is to pretend I'm a bit festive. Plus, they're beautiful. I know it's corny, but my dad got me the first one when we went to Italy, when I was very young, and this just takes me back, to the days he would carry me on his shoulders.

Also, since I'm gonna stay at home in the next few days, I figured might as well enjoy my surroundings a little more. You see, I sold that painting I did. Yes, already. Crazy. I don't know how it happened. My agent mailed a picture of it out. It was bought by one of the rich American investors who lives in the city, and likes to be the patron of local rising American talent. Maybe I *am* starting to make a name for myself, even though I refuse to admit it. Typical McCullers. But it just means more pressure. I have to work while I still have this feeling within me.

Since I forbid myself of going out, and since I really have to concentrate and relax, I figured I'd start mediating. I *have* to progress, and for that, I have to do new things, like relaxation, and acceptance. God knows how many good things can come out of it. I'm actually standing in downward dog this very moment, and lost in my thoughts, of course.

Let me elaborate about my problem some more. My fear was never about me and Em not working. It was always about *me* not working. Do I doubt us being together? I do, because of myself. Do I doubt loving her? No. I never did. Hence my craziness. I so want to be with her, but at the same time, I feel like I shouldn't, which makes me, logically, not want to be with her. It's like this never ending battle in my head and I don't even know if she'd have me. I mean, she just broke up with someone a few months back. She has a life and I haven't been a part of it for a very long time.

I said awhile ago that you have those people who come to your mind when you're not seeing anyone. Those who never leave you.

I told you about Renée, but she wasn't the only one.

I met a girl when I was travelling.

Her name was Zoe.

It was so out of my "usual" world. We didn't share friends, or meet at school or a club of any sort. It was random, which made it great. We were just travelling together for a while, studying the chemistry we

had, and we ended up falling in love. I don't wanna belittle the feelings I had over the years, they were real. We shared an experience that no one else shared with us. Travelling together was our thing, and we were together for nearly a year.

But you know what the really crazy part was? I felt guilty that I didn't share those moments with Emily. I was so happy with Zoe, but sometimes I just couldn't help but think about Em. I told her I needed to travel, but it's not like I asked her if she'd like to come with me. I didn't ask, because it was an excuse. It was me running away. She might've come with me. I didn't give her that choice, that wasn't fair, and because of that, I found someone else to share these moments with. It was my fault that Em wasn't that person, and that's where the guilt came from.

And eventually, that intensity of travelling with someone, being together 24/7, wore me and Zoe down. So it ended, before we got a shot to try and be a couple in "the real world". With Em and I, it was the other way around. We were perfect in the real world. We knew what it was like to be together 24/7, to share a life, and we always just wanted more of each other. The fun breaks were the part we never got to have. Other than that Christmas in Paris, we never had a getaway abroad together.

So that's what makes me want to go home. The fact, that my only real home, is Em. And *that's* what makes me think that this time I can say yes to her, forever.

But forever is such a long time for me to fuck things up. And it's just not fair to go to her without knowing that I can promise her that I'll always be there.

I want us to be as we were. We had days of being completely careless. Even me. We had our way of reassuring one another. Sometimes without saying a word, some other times by talking to one another in a manner that only we could.

The morning after I told her I loved her since the first moment I saw her, she gently woke me up.

I was very confused , half asleep really, when she asked me, "you said you loved me since the first moment you saw me. Did I live up to the expectations?" She smirked, but I could tell she was afraid of the answer. She wasn't trying to be cute. She was having self doubts. Emily Fields, was having self doubts. What was the world coming too?

My mind got sharp within an instant. I'm not a morning person, but I'm an Emily person.

"Are you asking if you're everything I was hoping you'd be? Is that why you woke me up?"

"Yes," she had a serious expression on her face.

I smiled and leaned in to kiss her passionately.

"Em, you are so much more. I'm not just saying that to sound like a cliché. I'm saying, that the girl who saw you years ago, was a kid and had no clue how much deeper and more mature her feelings could become. Given the time, and the knowing you closely part, that kid had no way of knowing. "

She smiled at me and seemed truly happy.

"Also, you're *super* hot."

She giggled at me and I added "nothing that I ever imagined, could have prepared me to how I feel when I'm with you."

She looked at me silently for a second, and said, "I love you so much."

There was a tear coming down her cheek. I captured it with my lips gently and said "please tell me that this is a good cry, because I love you too."

"Oh, good cry, very good cry," she smiled and just wrapped her arms around me. We just laid like this for a while.

When did I become so selfish? When was that turning point from being the person who could bring her comfort so easily, the person who never intended to leave her side, to a person who couldn't face her?

We'll have good days and bad days whether we are together or not. The question is, which option holds less bad days? Or, if to be a bit more on the positive side, which option holds more good days?

I know the answer to that.

But that's not to say that I shouldn't do a pros and cons list. Yes. Sometimes you just have to stop, be rational, and ask yourself, WWSD. That would be – What Would Spencer Do. And Spencer Hastings, would make a list. No doubt about that. So I should, once more, put my trust in Langley.

And I was supposed to stay in to paint! That damn list will have to wait. I'll be way more appealing to Em anyways if I can come and say, "Hey there, hot stuff, guess how many pieces I've sold in the last year?"

So Em, inspiration, painting, away!


	20. Chapter 19

As much as I have a love hate relationship with Paris, I always got why Paige found it to be so inspiring. I am standing right now, in front of the exact view I saw years ago, with her. That's probably because I booked the same room. I don't entirely know why. Maybe because I couldn't get this place out of my head. Or perhaps it's because I thought she might come here to get inspired. Many artists lock themselves in some sort of a safe haven when they create. Their bat-cave, or fortress of solitude if you will. Both analogies exist in my head, thanks to the fact that I was in a relationship with a nerd for four years.

I guess I don't really know what Paige would do these days. Back in the day she would just lock herself in our apartment for hours. I often found her sitting on the couch with her eyes closed. So many times I thought she was asleep, but then she would hear me and open her eyes to smile at me.

"Hey," she'd say.

"Hey, my love, what are you doing?"

"Getting inspired."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I make too much noise? Am I interrupting? Coz I can go."

"Not at all. Come here."

We had this exchange so many times. I'd approach her, sit in her lap, and wrap my hands around her neck.

"Of course you're not interrupting. *You* are inspiring me. You're the Lois to my Clark, the Alfred to my Batman."

"Hmm… I think I prefer the first analogy better?"

"You're right. I should've said Robin. Plus, everyone knows they're gay together."

"You're so funny. 'gay together'. Is that even English?"

"Oh, shut up and kiss me."

I get a little shiver of joy just from thinking about all those days. When I knew with certainty, that around me is where she felt comfortable the most.

Where would that place be for her today? Does she even have that kind of a place? Did she ever come back to *this* place and think of me? Just like I'm thinking about her now, leaning on this balcony which she held while she kissed me, years ago?

Of course I remembered the room number. I remember everything about that vacation. And since now I can afford to be here during my entire stay, I figured, why not? It might be another way of bumping into her.

So here I am. It's night time, my first night in the city. I'm actually exhausted from the flight but the view is breathtaking, and yet, something is missing.

But, I did it to myself, so I can't complain. I chose one of my sweetest memories, with the one person who seems to be able to make me feel whole, and added something new to it. And in that 'something new' scenario, I'm at the same place, but alone.

Maybe it wasn't the best of ideas. It makes me sad. Yet at the same time, even more motivated. Does that make any sense, or am I just being crazy again?

It's cold and I'm not dressed for the weather. I'm letting the wind cut through me and awaken something within me.

I walk back into the room, trying to sort my thoughts. One glimpse at my phone, which I've left on silent mode, and whoops, 10 new messages. I bet they're all from Hanna. How long was I out on this balcony?!

She gets cranky if she doesn't hear from me at least twice a day.

Let's give this a look.

First one: From – Hanna, 6:57 PM – "Emsy Em! Where are you, Hot Stuff? We need to discuss cool bathing suits!"

Oh my god Hanna, it's mid December and you are in NYC! I get cold just from thinking about it!

Second one: From – Hanna, 7:30 PM – "Dudette! Why no hablo with me? Do you have a thing today that you didn't tell me about, or are you just taking a long ass bath?"

She's still rocking the Spanish I see. As always.

Third one: From – Hanna, 8:15 PM – "What?!"

What indeed.

Fourth one – Hanna, 8:52 PM – "But for realsies Em?! What's going on! Should I be worried?!"

Sigh.

Fifth one: From – Hanna, 9:37 PM – "txt Hanna back, or else… -A."

I can see your number, genius.

Sixth one: From – Hanna, 9:38 PM – "Crap, I forgot that you can see my number. But point still stands you ho! Text me!"

Seventh one: From – Spencer, 10:00PM (of course she'll be sharp) – "You. Where are you and what are you doing? Hanna said you haven't answered her texts in 3 hours. Based on my intel, your schedule for today is free. I know you're up to something, so spill, and don't make me find out on my own."

Oh, Langley.

Eighth one: From – Aria, 10:20 – "Em, where are you? I feel out of the loop! Are you on the east coast again and didn't say? If so, Ezra and I are eating cake, join us!"

Those two grandparents. But I admit, I totally envy.

Ninth one: From Hanna, 10:35 PM – "I thought playing it hard to get would make you text me back. But it didn't. Why you love me no more? Are you getting laid?"

…

Tenth one: From – Mom, 11:00 PM – "Emily Fields, this is your mother. Your friends are worried sick about you and I for one think it's not fair you didn't tell me you were going to Paris. Finally! And you can close that mouth of yours, I'm your mother, I know you. Get her, tell her we miss her, and come home for Christmas, please."

I couldn't help but smile at this.

My mom does know me well, and she loves Paige, she always did. No wonder, Paige was a real gentleman. What's the girl equivalent of gentleman? A lady? Yeah, right!

But anyways, there's no way I'm texting Hanna now. This isn't gonna be a short conversation, it's nearly midnight and I'm a bit jet lagged. The needy wife will have to wait until tomorrow, as will the planning of my game plan.

For now, I must crash.

Oh dear. This is really happening.


	21. Chapter 20

Dear Diary,

Today was full of glory. I went to the cute farmers' market place that no one knows about, two blocks down. I stuffed my fridge with fresh vegetables, and of course, cheese, and Christmas décor (those are not in the fridge). On my way home, I stopped at the bakery and Marie gave me loads of stuff. I'm officially ready to feed a small army. But, I didn't stop there, oh no. I went back out to what was a surprisingly lovely day, weather wise, bought new bedding, curtains, and kitchen supplies. It's like spring cleaning in the middle of the winter! I also bought a new couch, took a cooking class early afternoon, and went to an art gallery opening at night.

Yep, I'm a superstar.

Is what I would've written in a diary if I had one. Which I don't, because considering how my days really look like, it'd be a really lame diary.

So basically I've done none of the above. Let's call it… wishful diarying.

Instead, I was in the apartment all day, again. It's nearly midnight and I'm standing in a puddle of blue paint. I can't really complain. I set myself a goal. I'm just so rusty, that I forgot how it is to do an 'art lock down', as Em used to call it.

Clearly it used to be way nicer with her around.

I lose myself in the work and forget to eat, and yeah, even take a shower sometimes. She'd come home and find me staring at the canvas. Sometimes I wouldn't even notice a thing until there was a bowl of soup under my nostrils, bringing me back to the real world.

"You need to shower. Don't take it the wrong way, but you stink."

"What other way can I take it in?"

"You know? No other way. You stink."

"I'm so helpless, as you can see."

"You're saying you want me to wash you."

"I said no such thing. That was *your* interpretation."

"I see." She said and started to leave.

"No, wait! It was a good interpretation! Good interpretation, I say!"

She turned around with a victorious smile, and we both ended up getting what we wanted. She got me to admit what I wanted from her, and I got… what I wanted from her.

I always find myself all covered in paint. I'm sure we all agree it's probably smarter to sketch first, and *then* execute on the canvas, but I could never work that way. It's like an urge. I can wake up in the middle of the night, with a vision in my head, and run to the canvas. It happened. A lot. Used to scare the shit out of Em sometimes. Between her talking in her sleep, and my… *artistic* urges, we were quite the sleepingly dysfunctional couple.

It was almost like being possessed.

She'd come from behind me, wrap her arms around me and say, "if you don't come back to bed with me, we both know I might end up with a perm."

I'd smile and say, "just a while longer, Em. I gotta do this."

She understood, which made me grateful, and when I joined her hours later, after, 'just a while longer', she'll cuddle with me. She knew her girlfriend was crazy. She was ok with that. If you're from Rosewood, you're bound to have some crazy in you. And if you're an artist from Rosewood? Ha! Don't even get me started.

But anyways, two good things (and counting!) happened thanks to this current blitz of work.

The first thing is, that I've actually made some progress. There's another painting standing right in front of me, and it's like ¾ done. All hale me!

Don't ask me what it is, because I kinda don't know yet. So how can I know it's about ¾ done? You're right. I can't. Maybe it's more like half done. Ish.

Sigh.

The point is – I'm making progress with it, and the sea is involved. Lots of blue shades.

Oh, yeah, the second thing .This is pretty cool – even though my agent sold the painting of Em I did, he managed to get it to be hanged in a gallery opening , tomorrow night! So I guess my wishful diarying wasn't a complete work of my delusional imagination! How about that?!

The guy who bought it was like "yeah, whatever, dude, it'll just make people envy my purchase even more!" I doubt he really said it that way, because he's a serious person who wears a suit, but it was something along those lines I'm sure!

I'm really excited because it's been a while, and it's always an honor.

Receiving awesome news is awesome!

I don't actually know if I'll go. I mean, work first. We'll see where I am with this blue-y thing tomorrow. I do know that I stink, and pretty much can be mistaken for a hobo after the last few days. I shouldn't grace society with my presence.

But we'll see, we'll see. All in good time. It's honestly just nice to be recognized. I'm not proud of many things I do (other than the obvious proud-ness), but I'm really am proud of this. Probably because this is all me, and somewhat Em. And it's something I didn't manage to fuck up.

Em.

I wonder what she'd think about all of this. A painting of her, being presented at an exclusive gallery opening in Paris. And it's already been sold. It makes me seem so high class, and I'm standing here in my underwear.

Don't worry the radiator is on. And the curtains are closed.

I just feel like a kid right now. What with all the snow globes around me, the paint everywhere and the good news. This is like a playground and I get to play, *and* be rewarded for it!

"I love it when you get like this."

Em said that to me once.

"Like how?"

"Look at you, you're like a kid. You look so happy, your eyes are sparkling."

"Because I love this painting so much!"

"It's gorgeous, my love. Your talent is mesmerizing."

I smiled at her.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Em. And not freaking out when I get up in the middle of the night, all possessed."

"Hey, I can't let you starve to death, right? It'd be completely messy and I'll be left alone with all the cleaning."

"Nice, Fields. Very nice."

She smiled at that.

"I love you, and I love taking care of you. Now go sign your name on this beauty, because you forgot."

I wish she was here to take care of me now. I actually have a fireplace for when the radiator isn't enough and for when I wanna look at the pretty flames. Do you realize how much romantic potential a fireplace holds?!

My eyes fall on the clock that stands on the fireplace between two more snow globes. Oh my god, it's almost one AM! I gotta sleep!

Wait. Did I say snow globes?

I turn around and stare at the canvas.

Be sure that I'm smiling.

Because I know what this is.


	22. Chapter 21

"What is this?!" Hanna asked me, well, more like yelled at me. It's morning time and I finally called her. This conversation isn't going very well.

"Look, Han, please don't make a big deal out of it. I just need Paige's phone number. And address. Just in case. Don't make this hard. Trust me, that it's hard enough as it is."

"Fine! But I so don't get you! Her phone is 261-453-6459…" I cut her off before she manages to finish the sentence.

"Seriously? This entire time it was the exact same number?! She kept it in freaking France? It was that easy to just call or text her?"

"Oh my god, Em. You still remember it by heart!"

"Whatever Hanna! What about the address?"

"I'll text you her address but, Em… What are you gonna do?! Just go banging on her door?!"

"Of course not! Not yet, anyways. Look, it's just a last resort, ok?!"

"Why did you even go there, Em?! *She* broke up with *you*. She was the one who burned the bridges. You know I love Paige, and you know I still talk to Paige, but I'm worried you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Do you think she still loves me?"

"I… Em…"

"Well? Do you? Because your inability to give me a direct 'no', tells me all I need to know, and doesn't convince me to stop."

"I don't know what to tell you, Em. I just don't understand why you had to go all the way over there. She was the one to cut you off."

That got me really worked up.

"Well, you know what? Sometimes people leave you because they're afraid you'll leave them first. If people would just not think about their egos! And …just go after those whom they love, even if they've been turned down by them, then maybe, just maybe…

"You could show her once and for all, that no matter what she does, you'll never leave her."

"Never," I said quietly. "Life proved to me that I can't."

We were both silent for a few seconds, then Hanna asked, "do *you* still love *her*?"

"I…" Of course I do. Can't she tell? I'm in freaking Paris on a whim. One that was planned for a while, but still, a whim.

I get lost in my thoughts until Hanna speaks.

"You're inability to give me a direct 'no', tells me all I need to know."

I smile at this. Touché, bestie.

"I do. I love her. Maybe I'm just in love with the idea of her, of us and what we used to be, but from what you guys have been telling me…"

"You'll love her even more today."

"You think?"

"I've seen her, remember?"

"How can I forget?"

"You're right, Em. She *is* the kind of person who'll never feel good enough for you. Like she's not worthy. She's crazy, though, considering she's amazing. And that's not to say you are easily… worthed, or something…"

"I get it, Han."

"I'm just saying, her talent will blow your mind, more than ever. She's way smarter today because she traveled, street smart too. It's actually quite sexy. If I wasn't into the boys…"

"Han!"

"Right, sorry! Well, she saw the world, and I think it made her more considerate, if that's even possible considering she was always such a gentleman…"

I can't take it anymore.

"Just stop it. I appreciate what you're trying to do. I do. But just hearing so much about *my* girl from other people… it still sucks, okay?"

"Sorry, Em. But here's my point – she might never feel good enough, can you live with that? With the constant need to remind her that you think she *is*?"

"You're funny if you don't get that *I* never feel good enough. That's just how it is."

"You're a freaking model, Em!"

"Not how it works, Han! It seems crazy to you that I'm a model? To me it's insane that someone with such a deep talent, is invested in someone with a profession that some would say is shallow."

"Em…"

"I'm not saying the feeling is justified, but it's there, that's the point."

"I understand. Then what will you do?"

"We will figure it out, together."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I believe she still loves you. It's evident in the small things she says and does."

Hearing this come from Hanna's mouth, was better than any self reassurance I tried to feed myself.

"Thanks, Han. It means a lot."

"Yeah, well, I didn't say it to you to make you feel better. It's the truth."

I smiled. Hanna and I could be so in sync sometimes.

"I gotta go, Han."

"Get her."

"I'll do my best."

We hang up and now I'm certain that within 2 minutes time, team Sparia will also be in the know.

That's how it works with us.

I'm really ready to head downstairs, get something to eat, start the day and figure out what the hell I'm gonna do.

I'm going through the clothes in my suitcase, trying to figure out what to wear. Last night was very chilly. It *is* Paris in December, after all.

Beep. Yep, that's probably Spencer.

Beep. And hello Aria.

I reach for my phone.

A text from Spencer. Do I know my friends, or do I know my friends?

Let's see the verdict.

Spencer – "You are in freaking *Paris*!? Are you out of your freaking mind?! I should've just kept my freaking phone in my pocket and we would've had none of this freakingly crazy behavior!"

"That's a lot of 'freaking', Spence", I reply to her.

Now Aria's text – "And here I was, offering you cake, while you are in the baking capital of the world. Thanks a lot, Em!"

I smile at that. Aria doesn't get full on upset very often, and when she tries to be "mad", it's mostly adorable.

"Sorry, little one. I'll get you a croissant."

I put my phone down and pick a nice long sleeved shirt which I put on immediately.

Beep.

Spencer again.

"I freaking hate you," she says.

"Feeling is mutual. You do get that I have to do this, right? Plus, what do you care? You *love* Paige."

Hit send, then pick pants and boots, and the moment I'm done putting them on, I hear the beep. Aria.

"Fine. You got yourself a deal. But it better be a very good one! Hanna explained everything. I get why you are there. Just… please be careful, ok?"

"Promise," I reply. One look at my scarves. Let's admit it. I'm Emily Fields. Even if it's just a week long vacation, there will be many scarves involved. No one can say what my scarfy mood would be like at any given moment.

Nice boots, nice second layer and a nice coa… beep. Dammit!

Spencer, again! Well, I did ask her a question after all, so I guess I can't complain.

"I love her so much I could choke her with love sometimes. You know I think you two should get the fuck back together, but… I don't know. I always hoped she'd just eventually get a grip with the eternal crap I give her whenever I can. Maybe you're right, maybe you'll speed the process…"

That's really nice. But I can't answer this right now. I have 6 days left. So here's a nice coat, and off to the lobby we go. Sheesh. Friends. Friends are crazy. I enter the elevator.

Everything about this place is so nice.

I remember we were amazed we were in such a fancy place.

But that's why it was one night only.

I mean, half of this elevator is made of gold.

Gotta be pretty damn heavy.

And don't even get me started about the lobby.

It's beautiful and so full of art. When we just got here, Paige wouldn't go upstairs for an hour. Just wanting to look at all the art. And I don't have to explain to you what going upstairs entailed.

I smile at the memory. I guess I'm happy to be here after all.

The guy at the desk sees me look at the art and says to me -

"Like art, ah? You should look at the brochures over there." He points at a stand full of brochures. "It has current attractions in the city. There's a whole art section there. Museums, galleries. It's very nice."

I thank him and go give it a look.

I *do* need to figure out what to do.

How am I even approaching all of this?

I look at the art stuff. Maybe a museum will be a good place to look for her? But there are so many, it's the middle of the week. Is she working from home? Is she out and about?

I really didn't think this through, did I? I really did just fly to Paris. I'm a mad person.

And just as I'm about to turn, I notice something that I can only describe as crazy.

There's a brochure. The picture on the cover is the painting Spence showed me on her phone.

The painting of *me*.

"What the hell?!"

I pick it up.

What is this? Am I imagining things?

Gallery opening. This painting is gonna be presented.

This is crazy! I'm on the cover! I mean, my back is. I'm used to hearing the words "Cover Girl" in my line of work, but this is totally different. And amazing.

I take a second to marvel in the moment.

I'm so proud of her.

Is she gonna be there?

She must, right?

It's a gallery opening and her work is being presented.

This almost feels too easy.

I gotta find an *incredibly* stunning dress.

When is this thing? Oh man, it's tonight. Clock is ticking.

Thank god we're in Paris. Gotta be able to find something gorgeous in Paris!

Tonight. I might see her tonight. Oh god.


	23. Chapter 22

Holy Mother of Penguins. There's no way I'm going *anywhere* tonight.

I'm so stinky, and covered in paint. I took a short break to check my emails and see if my agent sent me any updates.

She did. She sent the brochure for tonight's opening, and I'm pretty sure she was beaming when she did, because my painting was on the cover.

You'd think I'd be happy, but things like that just make me feel uncomfortable. That painting, which is kinda personal, was sold within* an instant*, art time wise, and now this?

I mean, I guess *all* of my art is personal, and yet, I feel like this is way too much attention for one piece.

God. I know. I must be the worst artist ever. Who wouldn't be happy about things like that?

What is it about having Em on the cover that drives me crazy?

It's like I feel people will find out my secret.

But firstly, you can't even see who she is, and secondly, what *is* that secret exactly?

Maybe I'm afraid that the more acclaimed I get, people will see the motif. But then what? What's the big fucking deal?!

There are two reasons to why it gets to me.. First of all, I always wondered if I can be as good even when it's not about Em. Like, even the paintings that don't directly feature her, are somehow related to her.

Then the second thing – it just makes me feel so exposed. And, I mean, this is what art is all about. Being exposed. That's not to say that I'm actually good at it. I've gotten so much better over the years, and still, I only have a few people who can see me for all that I Em. I mean am.

That's why being exposed in my art is both therapeutic *and* terrifying.

And with me, you can't get more raw than when you look at the part of my heart that is Emily.

So I think heading there tonight would be way too overwhelming. And being featured on the cover, is truly another reason for people to come and ask me their questions. Who is in the picture? What made me draw it? I just… I can't. Not after the past few months.

Some things I can't discuss out loud yet. It makes me feel pathetic.

, okay, this new painting? Which is, by the way, the official and totally legit reason why I'm staying home tonight.

So, it's a snow globe, right?

But is it a snow globe of a place? Well, you can say that, yes. But not a famous city, or a holiday or what not.

Oh no. It's a snow globe of a swimming pool. I kid you not.

I was just staring at all that blue I put on the canvas, then I was looking at the snow globes on my fire place, and it just hit me.

This is a little pool, stuck in a snow globe.

I know it sounds weird, because, how can it be a swimming pool with lanes and everything, when you're supposed to flip it?

See, this is where I have insane logic. Whenever I create, I feel like if someone's asking "but how does this make sense", I didn't do a good job. Unless it was meant to be something unexplained.

So I kinda made the lanes cut the globe in the middle, and have water in all of it. So no matter how you flip it, it still looks almost the same. I'm saying almost, because then there's the darker arm showing from the water, doing a stroke. The lane just next to it, has a paler arm, the opposite one.

I don't need to tell you who those arms belong too. I *can* tell you, however, that this is the first time I put myself in one of my works like that. I guess we can call it my modeling debut.

I want it to be clear, but not 'yelling it at your faces' clear. So I've only done the angling parts of the snow globes. You can't see the tips, just parts of its border. It's clear that the line of the circle continues out of the "frame" of the painting. I've added one sparkle to show that it's made of glass, and played with the shades inside of the globe to make it seem like it's being seen through a glass.

Lastly, and I shocked even myself with this strike of brilliance/patheticness, instead of your regular colorful 'inside of the globe' confetti, I made little gray sharks.

The snow globe has sharks in it instead of… well, snow. I guess it makes it a sharks globe, then.

My god, I'm such a weirdo.

I wonder how Aimée will manage with the selling of this one. Much luck to her.

I can hear her voice right now in my head.

"Paije! (she still insists of pronouncing my name this way, even after all this time)This picture is magnifique. As always, cherie. But, em… what… exactly… is it?"

"It's a snow globe of a swimming pool with sharks' confetti of course."

Oh, yes, this will go very smoothly. She's been an amazing and supportive agent, but this might just be too much.

No matter. The sentimental value is so overwhelming. See what I mean though? From the eye of the observer, this will just be the work of a clearly stoned artist. *I'm* saying – see the chocolate skinned arm in the water?

Maybe I should just embrace it. I mean, every great artist has had at one point or another something major that was the muse, the motif, right? Am I just convincing myself?

What will I do with you, Emily Fields?

I mean, it's bad enough that I think about you all the time and it completely affects the execution of simple daily tasks. But to add to that the thoughts of what might have been?

Sigh.

It's getting late, this place is so messy, and I wonder if I should even clean things up, or just leave it be. For tomorrow, the art lock down will resume.

Seriously, when I'm on my own I can lose myself completely in this. It's so unhealthy.

I'm also the most horrible perfectionist in the world, which is why I've been sitting on my couch, staring at the painting for the last 45 minutes. I can't help the feeling that I'm forgetting something.

Oh, duh. I forgot to sign it. Of course.

I always do that.


	24. Chapter 23

Jesus, I always do that. I think I have all the time in the world when I shop, and next thing I know, I'm about to be late to what might be a reunion with the love of my life.

Nicely played, Fields.

Thank god people dress me up for work, or I'd have a name of the most unprofessional person in the industry, ever.

I got an *amazing* blue dress, and many other clothing items. Which also meant I had to head back to my hotel room to drop it all off.

But I'm finally here. And now I'm standing in front of the entrance and I'm kinda paralyzed. I mean, what if she's the first thing I see when I walk in? Am I supposed to just waltz in there? And what will I say to her? Did I already mention that I didn't think this through, per se?

Yes, I obviously imagined this moment so many times in the course of the last three years, but this is different. I only get one shot at my 'first time I see you after three years'.

I have to remind myself that the bottom line is this – she'll either be happy to see me, or she won't. Nothing I say will change that. Might as well not say a word, see how she reacts, and then speak.

Sigh.

At least you look like a million dollars Fields, and you know it.

I walk in. I honestly feel like I'm on the verge of a panic attack. I know I can bump into her at any given moment and it makes me anxious. Seriously, remember that at least you *know* that you might see her. She couldn't have prepped herself for this. It *is* a sort of an ambush.

Let's just hope it's like… a puppy ambush and not like… a monsters ambush.

I'd be ok with being ambushed by puppies, right?

I look around me. It looks like a really nice, black tie kind of event. I picked the right kind of dress. A man approaches me immediately and offers to take my coat. I agree and thank him and less then a second later, another one approaches me to hand me a program.

Here I am again, on the cover of the program.

I can imagine myself noticing Paige from the back. Approaching her and telling her, "I figured I might as well show up, considering I'm the star of the night." Then she'll recognize my voice, smile without me seeing her, and turn around with a new, composed expression.

That's how it happens in the movies. Which means that's where this specific scenario will probably stay.

I guess I can always try and enjoy the art until I find her. If only I wasn't such a jumpy, unstable wreck.

I see some statues and some paintings, I grab a glass of nice wine, but I'm completely distracted. Then, in a very central area of the gallery, without sharing the wall with any other works, there's Paige's piece.

It catches me off guard, because it's so beautiful, and I can't help but feeling happy that I'm a part of it.

There's a wonderful creation in front of me, and I'm featured in it.

I can't help but thinking that in a way, Paige gave me a present. This looks like the kind of work that was born out of love.

I guess I seem overwhelmed and completely absorbed by the piece, because someone approaches me and starts talking to me.

"You like it? You've been staring at it for the past five minutes."

It's a short girl, with red hair, and she's clearly local, considering her accent. She has a determined, yet playful expression on her face.

"Five minutes?! That's *a lot*! Did you time me? Also, how did you know I was an American?"

"I didn't. I just assumed you spoke English. Most of the guests usually do. And yes, I did. I did time you. In my profession, we say that any minute the client stares at a piece, is one more grand he's willing to pay for it."

"So that leaves us with $5000, ah?"

"Yes, and only because I came over. Who knows how many more grands you'd be standing here for."

"Many, actually. This one is worth… (I almost say 'the world to me') a lot. I'd pay a lot for it."

"Sadly, it's already sold."

"Is it? Wow. That was fast."

"It was sold before the show, actually."

"Then why is it even presented? Gotta cause a lot of disappointment around here."

"It does. But its presented because it's beautiful. And the gallery wants to establish itself. And because Paige McCullers is becoming really hot."

Don't I know it.I shiver at the mention of her name. I guess I was caught off guard. Which is funny considering we *are* standing in front of Paige's painting and discussing it.

"I see. Then why let me stand here for minutes in front it, instead of ending my pain?" I ask with a smirk.

She smiles at me.

"Because there's plenty more from where this came from and it's all amazing work."

"And how do you know that?"

I start to worry that this girl, who is admittedly cute, knows way too much about Paige for my liking.

"Because it's my job to know. I'm Aimée. Her agent."

She stretches her hand to shake mine. I sigh with relief. That's why she's so invested in this. I shake her hand and say "nice to meet you." But don't add my name. Not yet.

"She's very talented." I say as I turn back to the painting.

I can feel her looking at me and all of a sudden she says "She's also very single. And gorgeous."

I can feel myself blush, and I turn to her in shock.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

I don't really know what to think, but at least my brain is functional enough to realize that A. Paige really is single, and B. Aimée is clearly not interested in her.

Aimée smiles and says ,"sorry. That was very direct. It's just… you're stunning. And Paige is very good with either finding herself in destructive relationships, or moping around about her ex from years ago."

That's me. That's me! She mopes about me!

Then before I get to say a word, Aimée speaks again.

"I just figured, you know, I'd give it a shot. You seem to appreciate her talent, so that's a good start, and I don't even know your sexual orientation, but she can use a positive distraction. I would actually be more subtle and just introduce you two if the idiot would've showed up tonight, but she's not here. Probably moping some more. At least it usually leads to good art."

I don't know what to think. This entire conversation is overwhelming, and I realize that Paige isn't even here. This is all sorts of crushing to me.

I guess she notices it takes me time to react because she says, "oh, gosh, I shouldn't have said so many things about her ex. This is probably the most unprofessional conversation I've ever had at a professional event."

I look at her, and I just need to get out of there.

"I… I gotta go."

I start to leave as she grabs my arm and says "I'm sorry I sounded so crazy. But even though she has a crazy agent, she's still amazing."

She hands me a card.

"Here. This is my website. Just check her portfolio on it, please."

I smile at the distressed woman. I need to end her misery. I clearly got her to feel really bad, but she's very loyal to Paige, and cares about her, which I appreciate.

"You think she's extraordinary, ah?"

"I know she is. In many ways. And everyone who meets her thinks so too."

"I can believe that," I say.

We smile at each other.

I turn around and I leave.


	25. Chapter 24

Leave it to me to slip while cleaning the very last puddle of paint from the floor.

I'm in all sorts of pain. Master genius extraordinaire – Paige McCullers.

If only all those people at the gallery opening knew who the person was behind the painting.

Instead of taking the shower I so desperately needed, I'm lying on my couch, refusing to move. I didn't break anything, but this is truly ridiculous and laughing at the situation makes my back ache.

I'm so entitled to feel sorry for myself right now, and so I shall. I'll act like a little puppy, pretend that a sexy nurse is about to walk in, any minute now, and take care of me. If we can have Em *dressed* as a sexy nurse instead, that's even better. Even though she can't technically ease any physical pain. I have a feeling my body will be miraculously healed, to perform any necessary thing that might be required.

At least I'm at the right angle to look at the snow globe painting. I need to give it a name. I can't just call it "The Snow Globe." Though words are hardly my strongest suit, even I can do better than that.

"The Pool?" No.

"The Arm?" No, *Paige*. A. Maybe try a name that isn't *that* obvious? B. Creepy! No names of body parts.

Crap. I suck at this.

Beep. A text from Aimée. Thank god I left the phone so close to me. I hardly need to move and that's good because I neither can nor want too. This becomes a whole conversation.

"Paije! (She knows I make fun of her for saying my name like this, so she texts it as well) How are you doing, cherie? I wish you came tonight!"

"I'm okay, Aimée. Another painting is done. I'm curious what you'll think. I slipped when I was cleaning all the mess, so I'm just lying down, trying not to move."

"Oh no! (You need to hear it in French accent, yes, even though it's a text) Are you okay? Remember Paije…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. My body is my work. And this is how I pay the bills."

"More importantly, this is how *I* pay the bills."

"I'm not your only client, Ams."

"Just my favorite one!"

I smile at this. Sometimes, she really reminds me of Hanna. When Hanna visited I actually introduced them. I'm sure that if Hanna was gay, this thing would have been on. They're the French and American version of the same person, and Hanna seems like she can get along really well with… well, Hanna.

They *did* like each other a lot.

This last text is followed by another.

"So... what did you paint?"

I sigh. Here it is… the million dollars question. I call her to save time.

"Well… it's kind of a snow globe. Or rather, the insides of it. It's like a swimming pool, and it has little sharks instead of…"

"Well, that's all very nice." She cuts me off and I'm surprised I got off the hook so easily, but then she continues. "Listen, I'm glad you called. I met this girl. She was staring at your painting for *ever*. She was gorgeous and she was wearing a stunning dress. Clearly, she has a really good taste, and the body of a model!"

I sigh at this. Every now and then, Aimée, god bless her soul, will try to fix me up with someone. She thinks that's the solution to all of my problems. Even a stranger from an art show seems like a good idea to her.

"If she's that amazing, Ams, you can have her."

"But, Paije! Listen. I'm telling you. She seems intrigued by your work, and she was so invested in it. I saw her eyes when she looked at it! She was glowing! It's a sign!"

"Aimée! Stop being such a sucker for romance! It makes your mind imagine things. I'm not interested!"

"You're never interested! You're hurting yourself! Give yourself an opportunity, you stupid girl! Merde!"

"Honestly, Aimée, you're more excited about this girl than you are about the fact that I finished another painting! What kind of an agent are you?!"

"The best! And that's only because I think this could be good for you!"

"Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?"

"She just seems to… fit, somehow, standing by your painting. I don't know her name or anything about her, but…"

"Great, Aimée. Thanks. You're ridiculous.'

On any other day, I might've tried to meet up with some gorgeous mystery lady who seems to appreciate my work. But I finally kicked out Renée out of my life. And I think that every day, I'm becoming more and more brave about the idea of reaching out to Emily. I mean, *really* slowly, but ultimately, this is what I want. So why take a step back? I always take steps back. That's what I'm good at. Want to improve things? Stick to the new plan. It got me painting at an amazing rate again. It'll get me even further.

And no gorgeous stranger in a stunning dress will change my mind, and move me from my righteous path!

"I hate you, Paije!"

"You just said I was your favorite client!"

"I lied!"

"I figured as much. Talk to you tomorrow. I'll send you a picture of the painting in the morning."

"Sharks in a pool sounds weird, by the way."

"*You* sound weird. Night, Ams."

"Bonne nuit, imbécile."

Ha! I really gave her a piece of my mind!

I lay down the phone just as I remember that there's something I must do. I pick it up, take a picture, and send it to Spencer.

I look at my creation, quite proud of myself. I don't care if Aimée doesn't get it. I think it's beautiful.

Beep. Spencer.

"It's gorgeous, Paige. A new one?"

"Yeah."

"I love it. Don't think for a second I don't see the two arms coming from the water. I know who they belong to."

"You never miss a thing, Langley."

"You know it McMonster. What did you call this one?"

I look at it again. It takes me back to how peaceful I always felt when it was just Em and me in the swimming pool.

Then it hits me. 'Peace of Mind'? No. 'Piece of Mind'. Complex. Just like my mind is right now. And almost always as of late.

I text the name to Spencer. The reply comes a few seconds later.

"You would," is all she writes.

I giggle, which reminds me I'm in pain. I put the phone down. Stare at the painting, smile again, and soon after, covered with paint, and completely sore, I fall asleep.


	26. Chapter 25

I'm so mad at myself for sleeping in for so long. But I can't help it, I'm exhausted. I won't be surprised if most of it is emotional exhaustion. It's already after 1 PM!

My body nearly literally collapsed into bed last night. It's just so overwhelming. First of all, I'm still a bit jet lagged. Then, meeting someone who's part of Paige's life, hearing about her. It was more overwhelming than I realized. It really took its toll on me, and when I got home last night, I couldn't help but obsess over it.

I was pretty much running away from Aimée, and I think I was doing that before I "get busted". That's the problem. There's a part of me that feels like I'm doing something I'm not supposed to be doing. Like I'm sneaking around.

I don't know why I keep feeling like this. When I'm thinking about Paige and I, it all feels so right. So, why?

Maybe because, truth be told, I *am* ambushing her.

But what's the alternative? If it was the other way around, she would've done the same thing. I'm sure of it. How can we just email, or text each other out of the blue, after three years?

We can't. I don't think this can be done in any other way. This is a face to face kind of thing.

This realization actually makes me feel a whole lot better. Yes, we like to justify things to ourselves.

This is day three. I really need to get up and get my shit together.

Time is running out.

I'm trying to go through the events of last night in my head. To figure out as much as I can.

Paige is working a lot lately, her works are beautiful, blah blah, tell me something I don't know. She's single and she's moping about her ex from years ago, that's probably my favorite part. What else?

Logic says that Aimée tries to fix her up with people and Paige, what? Refuses? I guess so. That's a good sign. Me being in the painting is also a good sign, and thank god Aimée had no way of knowing the back in the painting belonged to me.

Wait! Aimée! Her card!

I take it out from my coat pocket, and look at it. Aimée said Paige's portfolio is on her website. I'm so dumb. How did I not google her before I got here? I got so used to not approaching her via social networks, that I didn't even think about the rest. Hello, Emily! Brains 101! This is *embarrassing*!

But first thing's first. Let's see what Aimée's website can teach me.

I turn on my laptop, and go on Aimée's website.

It's very well done. Clearly, she's a highly prestigious artists' agent, even if her whole minor melt down last night was not too professional. Sometimes, attitude is exactly what you need to distinguish yourself from others. She clearly has it.

I click on the tab that says 'Clients'. At the top of the page, there's a line that says "click on artist's photo to see their portfolio". I scroll down through pictures with names. And then I see her, and I think my heart stops beating for a second. This picture is pretty current, and I haven't seen her in three years.

She looks gorgeous and I can feel the tears coming down my cheeks.

"P…" I say and touch her face on the screen.

I know how cliché this sounds, but again, I haven't seen her face, or any picture of her, for years.

"You look stunning, my love," I say to no one in particular, considering I'm sitting in an empty hotel room.

But she does. Her hair is layered. The longest layer goes down to her bust. It's also darker. Maybe it's the fact that Europe is more wintery and her hair gets less exposure to the sun, what do I know? Other than the fact that I still can't breathe, and that I'm obsessing over this picture.

She seems thinner, if that's even possible. She always had a flat stomach and an athletic body. I see that's still the case, but something about her posture, projected strength. And she smirked. This photo must've been taken after she gained some success, because she looks like she believes in herself. She looks proud, and I can't help but smile.

I finally click on the photo, not without a struggle, since I wanna keep staring at it forever. But that will get me nowhere.

Her page loads and in it, there are about 40 pictures. Paintings, sculptures, photos. Some I recognize as work she's done while we were still together. It makes me happy, to know that something she's done at such an early stage of her career, was still valued.

And then I look at new things, and just like with the painting at the gallery, and with what Hanna said, I can see just how much she has grown. I can't help but being proud. It feels stupid, to be so proud all the time of someone whom you haven't seen in years, and doesn't know you're proud of them, but I can't help it. She's my girl. She will always be my girl.

Some of those scenery paintings I recognize as places we've been too, and some of the sculptures have nuances of objects that meant something to us. She's very detailed. She always was.

I click on a photo of one of the scenery paintings. Wanna see it in high resolution. It's a shore. I remember it. The coast line was full of rocks, we were there at sunset. It was beautiful. I was sitting on one of the rocks, and she kissed my head and said to me "be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to memorize." She smiled, and turned away. I smiled too and looked back at the water.

Oh, I remember that day. It was a wonderful day. I look at the photo. Everything is so detailed. And then, I notice it. On the rock to the very left of the painting, there's a figure sitting. Hardly noticeable unless you really scan the painting. The figure has long black hair.

It's me. I'm in the painting. Again. I gotta wonder how many more times was I in her paintings, and also, what should I take from this realization.

I look at the description of the painting.

Name: "Memorizing."

Sold for: $35,000

Say what?! This is my day with my girlfriend, watching the sunset on the shore, and a stranger paid $35,000 to keep it?

Oh. My. Goodness.

I spend the rest of the day researching. I figured since I have no plan anyways, might as well stay in and get intel. I mean, getting outside with no goal, is even more useless than staying in, where I can maybe gather a few ideas.

Many of these paintings had me in them. In a very subtle, nearly unnoticeable way. But I knew where to look, so I found it. Every one of those pieces brought back a memory, a moment we shared. It added to the general feeling of being overwhelmed.

I sat on this page for hours before I went to Aimée's gallery page, where she had photos of her and clients from different events. I got to see full body shots of Paige. Sometimes in dresses on red carpets and art shows, sometimes painting in what I guess was her apartment. She had a fire place. Nice.

I couldn't help but picturing me snuggling with her next to it.

I spend a lot of time on each of these photos, and write down some notes. I need to know where she likes to go. To have fun, shop for groceries, get inspired, or just to get away. For some reason, going straight to her place feels way more violating. I'm already in "her territory" just by being in Paris. I'd very much rather pass on being in her actual space too. Because if I do, she has nowhere to run to, and it'll be really unfair of me.

I really don't want to hurt her. I'm just trying to find a way to make a situation that will probably be somewhat uncomfortable, as comfortable as possible.

I'm gonna pay Aimée's office a visit tomorrow. Best case scenario? I run into Paige. Worst case scenario? I learn more from Aimée. I have the perfect cover since I'm interested in the art, and Aimée is interested in fixing me up with Paige.

Right. My ex's agent, is trying to fix me up on a blind date with my ex.

This can't be real life. It's absolutely absurd.

And yet, I gotta make up a cover story because Aimée can't know who I really am. She might change her mind about sharing and become so protective of Paige, that I'll get the opposite effect to what I actually want.

I'm talking like a freaking spy. How does Spencer live like that every day?

It's absolutely crazy!


	27. Chapter 26

Okay, this is crazy.

I slept until 4 PM! I guess I really didn't realize how tired I was. And beat. Quite literally, as my body reminded me first thing this morning. Hmm… I mean afternoon, when I turned around just now, to get up.

It was quite painful.

But I have to get up. First of all, I'm still in the same clothes I've been wearing for days. Considering the fact I fell while I was cleaning, I didn't even bother to change, just dragged myself to the couch. Then, of course, I didn't finish cleaning.

I wonder if I should go to the doctor at all, or just slowly and gently take a shower, get myself sorted and give it a few days.

I grab my phone, not without pain involved in the process. I have 3 texts and a few emails. I'll have to get to my computer at some point.

Woah. It seems like the entire Rosewood gang texted me. I start to get panicked and look through them quickly.

1:40 PM , Spencer – "Hello McMonster! How are you? Anything out of the ordinary going on?"

Why would anything out of the ordinary be going on?

I reply with "No, Spence, why? Is something supposed to be going on?"

Next on is a text from Hanna. 2:15 PM – "Hallllo, French lady! How are you doing? I hear you're back to painting full time? Very good news, my sweet! Speaking of art, I was wondering how Aimée was doing?"

What? This is very odd. I mean, yeah, Aimée and Hanna get along really well every time she comes for a visit, but still.

"Yeah, Aimée is great. Teasing me about my ways, as always, but that's her thing, you know? Anything specific you are asking about?"

Okay, one more from Aria. Before I even check it, I hear a beep so I know one of the other girls replied. Sometimes I feel like I'm under attack. They either share a brain, or are plotting something. At all times.

3:27 PM, Aria – "Hey, Paige! So, Ezra and I signed up for baking classes together, and we need to bring our own recipe. I figured, since you live in the baking capital of the world, you might be able to help? We need to make a cake!"

I can't help but giggle. Oh, lordy. These two.

"Sure thing, Tiny. Let me go to my peeps downstairs at some point, if I ever leave this apartment, and I'll get back to you!"

And now Spencer's response.

"No, Pages. Just thought with your new painting, maybe something happened…"

"Spence, I just finished it last night and ever since then I've been sleeping sore on the couch because I fell while cleaning. One of my typical glorious moments. Are you trying to tell me something in some Langley code? Are aliens about to invade France? Should I stock my place with canned food?"

Aaaand… Hanna.

"No. I mean I was just completely, randomly, and with no given reason, thinking about her all of a sudden and how she must sometimes come to NYC for art business. I wanted to say that she can stay with me. And stuff."

"I'll text you her email, crazy one. I'm sure she'd love to. I think you guys are each other's straight girl crush."

I text her Aimée's email, and then check the message from Aria of course.

"Thanks, Paigy! You're the cherry on my pie!"

"Aria, just for future reference, you don't wanna say stuff like that to gay ladies."

And with that, I hope I'm done, because those girls can be such a distraction when they're together.

I stand up and head to my laptop. It's quite the journey.

Ouch. Hmmpff. Walking is not fun. But the mission must be fulfilled.

I go through my emails.

One of them is an RSS notification about Em and a new photo shoot she's done for a magazine. Not only am I an obsessed stalker, I'm an extremely nerdy obsessed stalker. AKA, the best kind.

I will look at it later. It's bad enough that my day start at 4 PM and I was textually ambushed by the Rosewood gang. I can't afford being even more distracted today or I'll get nothing done.

And so I skip to an email from Aimée.

"Paije, cherie. I haven't heard from you all day nor got the picture of the new painting. But I spread the word last night to a few major clients, and they're already intrigued. Even though I mentioned the sharks. I guess we're getting to the point where people will buy anything if it's by you. Don't let it get to

your head! But anyways, you better just get the painting here so we can prep it, and put it in the safe before you fall on it. Come by today, or tomorrow if you are still asleep? Talk to me! Embrasser!"

Whaaat? No way, Jose! I am broken! I'm cute and miserable and once I shower and change into my PJs, I'll be cuter and miserable. Er.

I'm not going anywhere!

I text Aimée.

"Ams! I'm currently crippled! Can't leave the house like that! Just get one of your people to pick it up, or I can deliver it to you. How does that sound?"

I stare at the painting, contemplating how to send it to Aimée, when I get the reply from her.

"No! Paije! Stop! This shit happens to you every other week and it makes you way over dramatic! You spent days in that apartment! Get out! Come to my office, and bring it to me! Stop being such a baby! I dare you to come over! And bring my coffee on the way!"

I hate when she does that. She knows me well enough to push the right buttons. She knows that once she adds the challenge element, I'll have to do it.

Women. I hate them. In a very loving way.

"Fine!" I say to myself. But out loud. 'Coz I'm a crazy, nerdy, stalker person.

Just another chore for me to do. Might as well go out and breathe some air. I've been in this place for days. I'll go tomorrow morning, drop the painting, tell Aimée she suck, grab a recipe for Aria from Marie, buy actual food and head right back here. To paint. Some more.

I pick myself up and head to the shower.

I'm not trying to be funny, but I honestly can't wash behind my ears. Still, as much as I hate to admit it, Aimée was right. I'm all sore, but I can manage. Just honestly need to take it easy for a few days. The steam makes me feel great and eases the pain.

I drag myself out of the shower and put some clean clothes on. It feels great. I bend down by the cloth that I left on the floor when I fell, and slowly finish wiping the blue leftovers.

There. All achieved. I should've probably done that *before* I showered, but all achieved nonetheless.

I grab my phone to see if anyone called when I was in the shower, and I see three new messages.

Aria, Spencer and Hanna.

Seriously! How do they do that?!

Aria – "Hehe. Noted! Thanks! You're the best!"

Hanna – "She might just be! Hehe! Thanks! You're the bestestest!"

My. Goodness.

Then Spencer – "I wouldn't say an *alien* invasion per se. I'll keep you posted though."

I miss Em. She was the most sane one.

Riiight.


	28. Chapter 27

Right. Okay. I can do this.

I totally made cue cards. Is it over doing it?

I'm pacing. Of course I'm pacing. In my hotel room.

You'd think that after years of developing survival skills in Rosewood and doing major surveillance work, this would feel more natural. Especially since I'm a model, so I basically pose for living as someone that I'm not.

It's true. I really am not that glamorous person who must have fancy stuff.

It's not like I mind getting myself a nice thing every now and then, but at the end of the day, I'm the girl who likes to go to bed wearing her ex's flannel shirt. I always was, and always will be.

I'd like to walk into an apartment, which I share with someone whom I love, see them paint, and later watch a movie on the couch together.

Sigh.

I think this is part of why I miss her so much. If anyone could keep me grounded, help me enjoy the simple things without being simple at all, it's Paige. It's *still* weird when I refer to her as "my ex." Weird and unnatural.

She's the person I want to come home to after a photo shoot. When the makeup is off, when I'm in my PJs, when I'm not a desired cover girl, just Paige's girlfriend.

I'm not saying I'm undefined as a person without her. That's not what this is about. But, when the show is over, and there's only me left, I want her to be the one who gets me. The real me.

Well, then, I guess it's a good thing I'm here!

Aimée's office opens at 10. But getting there the moment she opens is not only desperate, but also suspicious and creepy. I should grab a shopping bag with me. Will look like I came over casually after a morning of shopping.

Please. There's no way coming to her office will look casual, no matter what I do. It'll just be a sign for her that I might be into the match making. Which, technically, I am.

So maybe I should get there around… 11? 11.30?

Okay, here's the plan.

I go over there, all smiles, greetings and oozing of charisma (again, 'plan' means it's all hypothetical, yes? There's an absolute chance of me messing this up majorly).

I can make a joke about feeling bad that she felt she made a bad impression. I'll politely ask about the show and what reactions Paige's piece got. I'll tell her I checked her website and it's very impressive and that I'm considering staying in Paris for a while.

Darn. I really hate all this lying. Maybe I just won't say much and wait for her to ask? Minimize the damage.

Oh, yeah, and a name. I need a name. How about Tori Jones. I can pass as a Tori Jones, right? Is it too simple? Too complicated? Does it sound like a high class lady? Do I want to seem young and hip or complex? I was never good at making up things. Except for silly words. Like zombo. Being creative is Paige's thing. Great. Now I'm over thinking the name again! Tori Jones it is! No more doubting!

Can you believe I woke up at 8 AM to prep for this? Like, I've been so exhausted in the past few days, but I managed to get up for *this*. And this is Paige's agent, so why the hell am I so anxious?

It's the lying, the pretending, and the chance I'd actually bump into Paige.

The fact that this is what I want and am here to do, doesn't make me less edgy. I feel like I need to have my guard up all the time, or *she* would be the one to surprise *me*. I don't think I'd be able to handle that.

It's quite tiring.

Maybe that's why I'm always like that when I'm in Paris for work. Not only the memories, but maybe something within me could feel her. Maybe that's why I'm always jumpy when I'm here, restless.

And when someone's on your mind, you see them everywhere. Your mind plays tricks on you. I guess I'm always expecting her. No matter where I am. I can't tell if it's worse when I'm not expecting to bump into her, or when I'm actually looking for it to happen.

If I get out of this city with some sanity left in me, I'm gonna be one of those actress converted models. The performances I'm required to do while I'm here, prove to me that I can. Act, that is.

Right. Okay. So no giving any details unless being asked. But she will. So for the purpose of this performance, I *am* Tori Jones. Wealthy. A new collector who's looking for new artists to invest in. Got my fortune from running a very successful fashion company. Basically I gave myself Hanna's future life. But I went to business school which is why trading is my passion.

I'm actually 27 (older will seem more appealing, right? Both for purposes of business, and for match making).

I'm originally from Philadelphia. Just for the slight chance that Aimée will tell Paige about this and P might be intrigued, thinking she may know me.

Do I even want her to want this? It's kinda weird, wanting your ex to stop thinking about you, so you can take her on a date. I'm giving myself a headache.

Okay so I moved to NYC after college, daddy gives me money to do whatever I want (he's also how I got my position at the company, but it doesn't mean I'm not very good at what I do). He knows I'm not a *crazy* spender, and I don't ask very often because I'm doing quite well. I spend money on things of quality and taste. Yes, that's a very good line. It sounds convincing, and classy.

Alright. It's 10. I should leave. It'll probably take me about an hour to get there and then I should probably circle the cross streets once or twice.

I pick up a shopping bag and am ready to head out. It has some nice lingerie in it. Just in case Aimée gives it a glance so she can report back to Paige.

The combo of thinking about me in lingerie and Paige sends shivers down my spine.

Can't think about it right now! Gotta focus on the mission ahead!

And I must remember, asking Aimée about herself is key! Let's do this thing.


	29. Chapter 28

I have the key to Aimée's heart and its name is coffee. This is our unspoken rule. If I come over with her coffee, she must love me for the rest of our time together.

It's 9:55 and I'm waiting for Aimée. My painting is leaning on the wall next to me.

Not only do I love being the first thing she sees when she gets here, because it gets her irritated, this time I had no choice. I really want to head back home as soon as possible, do some cleaning - if my body manages - and paint.

Also, considering she made me come over while I'm in pain, the idea of irritating her is very appealing.

And there she is, hustling through the weight of the world, on her way to start another day. I smirk at her, she sees me and freezes.

"Bonjour, mon Aimée." It's a little thing we do.

"Oh no! Paije! Why so early?! You did this on purpose!"

"If you won't seem more happy to see me, I'll do that thing where I talk a lot when it's way early for you."

"It's way early for me *now*, and you're already talking."

"But I can talk way, way more," I say as I hand her the coffee.

"You're stupid and I don't wanna talk to you."

"Come on! I brought you coffee!"

She gives me a very annoyed glance as she's reminded of our unspoken rule. Knowing that victory is mine, I smile at her as she unlocks the door and we walk into her office.

"Alright, Paije. But if I accidentally bump into you and you're in pain, just know it was by mistake."

I immediately open a bigger gap between us and she sweetly smiles at that.

"Lovely, Ams," I say, "as Always."

She doesn't respond.

"Hmm… are you gonna help me with the painting? I already had to carry it all the way here for you. In my poor poor state and…"

"Stop talking, Paije! It's already way too many words, and that's *before* I finished my coffee."

To say that she's not a morning person would be an understatement. Sadly for her, I *am* a morning person. When I'm in the mood.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Sometimes you just need to give time for Aimée's brain to wake up. Don't get me wrong, she's brilliant, but in the morning she's a freaking zombie. She *will* eat you alive.

I fight the urge to tap on her table, because I know this scenario will end with my death. I stare at her, while she drinks the coffee, and I can see that sip by sip, she gets sedated.

You gotta understand that when she asked for coffee, she didn't mean for me to bring her a morning coffee. She consumes like 15 cups of coffee a day. Not exaggerating. So when she said "bring me coffee," she probably meant "bring me coffee in the afternoon and don't you dare to come before it's noon, you bastard." Sucks for her, I'm here *now*.

I sit quietly for a few more minutes, give her the time she needs.

I don't envy the first client of the day who calls her. She only gains full functionality around 10.30-10.45. After that though, she's charming.

"So…" she says.

"Oh, sorry, are you talking to me?"

"Very funny. Shut up."

"Then it'll be a very one sided conversation."

"Stop it. You know how this works. I say a word and then you wait quietly for five more minutes before I say the next one!"

"You just said a whole sentence, Ams."

"I hate you!"

"Coffee." I point at my gift to her.

She stares at me angrily and we're both quiet again.

I get up and unwrap the paper from the painting, to reveal it to her, and sit back quietly. I know she's examining it. Might as well let her do that while I wait for her to speak again.

I'm kinda frightened she won't like it. *I* like it a lot, but she needs to be able to sell this. I don't wanna let people down, but also, I want them to like something that means so much to me.

Aimée's eyes widen and her jaw drops a bit.

"Paije…"

"Shit. You completely hate it, don't you? I'm sorry but the sharks have a personal meaning and…"

"Shut up. What is it with you and talking? I… It's breathtaking. It's really striking."

She takes another few moments. I think she realizes her time of silence has come to an end. But, it wasn't *my* doing, directly, so I'm off the hook.

She starts to speak again.

"I… it's like I can see by looking at it that something incredibly important is happening inside of that snow globe. Like it's capturing a moment of real importance. I don't know how you do it."

I just smile at her. A real, cheek to cheek smile. Her words couldn't have been truer. To *me*. I'm just happy that I manage to convey that feeling.

"Walk with me," she says, and I know the drill, we've done it before. She's taking me to the safe.

"Are you gonna help me carry it this time around?"

"Nope."

I love my "visits" to the safe. I feel like I'm seeing something raw, even though the paintings themselves are done. This is a transition home. So many beautiful things are gathered there. I get to see the work of some of my colleagues, not ready for exhibition yet. Some already framed, some are not. It's fascinating. And every time there's something new in there, I leave a compliment for the artist with Aimée, and more than once, I've gotten them too.

We put the painting in one of the free areas made especially for this, and we head back to her office to look at the frames' catalogue. This is a really important step, because for me, it's part of the piece. A frame can either distract you from the work, or put an emphasis on a specific element in it, in addition to many other functions the frame has.

This piece has borders within it already, because of the globe and, since there are water and glass, I want something light. We choose a frame together, a process that takes us about 10 minutes. Not our worst time ever. This one was easy. It took us 2 hours once.

Few more days and this baby will be ready to be sold/exhibited. Let's hope someone wants it.

"Alright, Amsi, this has been fun, as always but…"

"Wait a second, Paije. I wanted to talk to you."

"Now what? This mystery girl again?"

"Don't be snappy at me!"

"I have no other joys left in my life!"

"That's your fault, now shut up and listen to me."

I do shut up. She asked so nicely, after all.

"Are you gonna be in your lockdown all week?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Your birthday is in 3 days."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you."

"Are you gonna do anything?"

"I'm gonna be home painting."

"Well… don't you *wanna* do anything?"

"Nope. Painting makes me happy."

Truth is, I've lost my festive birthday mood. The only thing I really wanna do is spend my birthday with Em. But, that's not gonna happen so... next best thing is to paint something that will probably be related to her somehow.

She looks at me for a few moments, then smiles and open one of her drawers and takes out an envelope. She hands it to me.

"What is this?"

"Well, since I find no point in arguing with you, you stupid stubborn girl, I know I won't be seeing you on your birthday. So this is an early birthday present."

"Aww… Ams…"

I smile at her. We really do love one another. I reach for the envelope and open it. It's a plane ticket. Paris to Philly.

"Hmm… Aimée… What is this?"

"Paije, you haven't been home for ages. You've been working so hard lately. I think you should go home for Christmas."

Not a chance. And she probably sees that thought through my eyes because she says, "or any other time. It's valid for a year. I just think you deserve some home time."

I really don't want her to feel bad. This is a sweet gesture, even if a bit misguided.

"Thank you, Aimée. It's a really sweet present. I love you for that."

It worked.

"Now now, don't get too emotional with me. It's not what we do. Happy birthday, cherie."

"Thanks," I say and get up to go.

"Now, about that girl from the gallery…"

"Aimée!"

"Paije, you know I want what's best for you!"

I almost whisper as I say ,"I already know what's best for me."

I can feel her stare at me, like I'm a lost cause.

"Fine. I can't *always* tell you what to do."

"No woman, you can't, remember that." I smile at her so she knows we're cool, and she smiles back. She'll let me be. For now.

"You're stupid," she says.

"So are you. And you won't do things I wouldn't want you to do, right?"

"Oh, absolutely not."

I don't believe her for a second, but with that, I give her a smile and leave.

I look at my watch.

Great, it's only 10:50. I'll go get the recipe from Marie, and then a day of efficiency it is!


	30. Chapter 29

Okay. It's 10:55. I might just circle the area for a few more minutes and head up there. Gotta look like I actually came from outside. And I can't be there at 11 sharp, or 11:05 or 11:10. It needs to be a random time, like maybe 11:07, or 11:13. I don't know if I can wait twenty additional minutes, though. The anticipation will kill me. Let's face it, it will have to be 11:07, tops. Maybe like 11:03? I'm a crazy person.

Oh god, what if she asks me about my shopping?!

Well, then I just quietly show her the contents of the bag and smile teasingly. Yes. I can do that.

I circle the block a few more times, it's a nice area and the streets are starting to fill with people. 11:04. That's a good compromise I guess. I take a breath and head up to Aimée's office.

Okay, remember, Em, you are sure of yourself. She said she thinks you're pretty, most likely she remembers who you are. Just walk in with a smirk and let it go from there. There's hardly anything you can screw by just smirking.

I buzz her bell, she asks who it is, and I say "a surprise!" I guess my voice sounds reassuring because she lets me in. As I walk in I can see her bend forward from her table to see what this is all about. Smirk, Em, smirk!

"Bonjour!" I say to her, and immediately go back to my smirking. Paige told me once that my smirk was my super power and my way of getting everything I wanted. I'm praying right now that she was right.

Aimée recognizes me immediately and I feel relieved.

"Well, well," she says, "if it isn't the mystery lady."

I giggle at that and say, "well, you said some intriguing things that night. I checked your website, and thought I'd pay you a visit."

"I'm glad you did. Checked the website, ah? Anything you liked? A certain artist? Or said artist's photo on my site?"

I had already forgotten that this girl was very direct, but, I'm Tori Jones, rich, successful New Yorker who oozes of charisma. I can handle this.

"Perhaps, perhaps."

She smiled at that. Clearly, my smirking is working.

"Well, you actually just missed the completely hypothetical person we're talking about. She left like 10 minutes ago."

Dammit, Paige!

Aimée probably sees my disappointment, because she says, "but don't let that worry you. The girl is a stubborn idiot. I actually mentioned you to her and she wasn't willing to hear any of it. Idiot. I'm telling you."

"Still ex stuff?"

"Always. And even though she worships her, I doubt she could be as beautiful as you are."

'Ha!' is what I think, but what I say is, "thanks."

At this point Aimée notices my bag and says "a little bit early for shopping, isn't it?"

Oh, crap.

"Hmm... I'm just trying to make the most of my time here."

"Make sense. What do you have there?"

I smirk again and show her what's in my bag. There might be lace involved. Not a lot of it. Which is kinda the point.

"Well, well. Paige really doesn't know what she's missing."

I'm actually starting to think she does. Sadly, that's not helpful enough. Not yet.

Aimée looks at me and says "is this for your special friend?"

"Sadly, I don't have a special friend. But it's always good to be prepared."

"True, very true."

Oh my god, I'm nailing this Tori thing! Okay, it's time I start to stir the conversation somehow.

"So, all fun times aside, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."

"I do. I also wonder what your name is. We're already discussing special friends and lingerie but I don't know your name."

With the smirk that has proved itself so far, I say "Tori. Tori Jones. Nice to officially meet you."

We shake hands and she says, "nice to meet you too, Tori. And by all means, tell me to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, my long lost new friend, I'm at a bit of an… adventurous point of my life. I have some money, I'm looking into maybe entering the art business. As a collector and a trader, don't worry, not trying to steal

your thunder. That's why I'm in Paris, actually. I'm not sure for how long I'll stay yet. What I *do* know is that I'm looking into new, refreshing talent. And some of the stuff on your website intrigued me."

"Nice. What stuff precisely?"

"Hmm… McCullers stuff."

"Yeah, I thought so," she said with a smile.

I smiled too and said, "your girl looks gorgeous, it's true, but I'm honestly here for work."

I'm actually *honestly* here for 'your girl', and I have no idea what this work is that I'm talking about, but thanks for watching my one woman show.

"Keep going," she says.

"Well, how about you tell me. How was the rest of the show? How did people react to the piece?"

"It was great. More people wanted to buy it. But, as I said, it was already sold. It's good. There's a buzz. People are becoming anxious to put their hands on her stuff."

Tell me about it.

"Nice. Then my timing is great."

"Oh, your timing is more than great, your timing is perfect. She brought in a new piece this morning. Maybe I can show it to you and we can discuss a thing or two?"

To see a new painting Paige did? Hmm… yeah!

"We can do that," I say and I'm so proud of myself for staying so composed.

"I'm gonna take you to the safe. Can I trust you to not be an art thief?"

"Well, we can talk some more and help you decide."

I'm nailing this thing! *How* am I nailing this thing?

Before we continue our lovely conversation, Aimée's computer beeps.

"Oh, it's actually an email from one of Paige's friends. Let's see. Sorry, it'll take just a second. Those people are insane. How late is it in NYC? Do they never sleep?"

I smile at her, but thinking about the gang from back home, I actually have a feeling this email from Hanna. Memo to self: kill Hanna. Assuming it is Hanna.

"Alright, Hanna, let's see."

Yep. Kill Hanna.

"'Aimée, my love. I texted Paige yesterday asking for your email.' Exclamation point.' I just figured that you must come into town every now and then for work, and I miss your sexy face.'" Aimée turns to me and says, "now she puts a smiley face. She has *a lot* of virtual energy!" She keeps on reading Hanna's email. "'Anyways, I was thinking that you probably stay in a fancy, classy hotel whenever you're here. I wanted to suggest you'd be less classy next time, and stay over with me so we can get drunk and complain about Paige together.' That actually sounds fabulous. 'Let me know when you're coming, cherie'. Another exclamation point. 'kisses, Hanna.' Aww. She's so lovely! Sorry about that. I love this girl. She's one of Paige's friends from home. Paige says we are each other's straight girls' gay crush. She's dumb very often, but she might be right about that."

I can see why Paige would think that, so I can't help but smile.

"Anyways, sorry! You've already seen me being so unprofessional that I'm like, meh, first impression is down the drain."

I laugh at this and say, "no problem at all! I was just observing again how amazing your English is!"

"Awww! Thank you! Well, I sorta work for my dad. Well, not exactly. He has a few companies, I run one of them. He always knew he wanted me to. I can't complain. I *love* it, and I love the people I work with. But since he always knew this is the future he wanted for me, I've taken English classes since I was 6, and went to school in NYC. Actually wanted to ask you about your life there! I miss it so much!"

No good! Distraction now! I can't get too deep into it or I'll be oh so screwed.

"Oh, wow! That's amazing Aimée! It's great that this is the life you wanted but what would your father be like if you had ended up doing something else?"

"Oh, he would have to sucked it up. He knows better than to argue with me about things like that."

I laugh at that and say, "nice! My dad is the same way. He trusts me and my decisions which I really appreciate."

Not a total lie, right? It goes well with the cover story, plus, my father *is* awesome.

She stands up and says, "walk with me. Let's talk some more on the way."

Oh my god! I'm gonna see more of Paige's work! And if it's new, almost no one has seen it! I'm actually in the first circle for a change, and for the first time in years!

"So, Tori," Aimée says and I realize Tori is me and that I'm supposed to turn to her and react like a normal person, "what is it that *you* do?"

I guess this was inevitable, but now that I know she used to live in NYC, I'm afraid she'll see through my sneaky, very well thought, web of lies. "Well, as I said, I went to business school. I run a fashion company. I work with designers, and magazines, a lot of social media."

Whenever you say social media, people think you know what you're talking about.

"That's great! Hanna is actually a designer! I should hook you two up! Or better yet, let Paige do it! You'd love her stuff!"

Great. Memo to self no. 2: Before killing Hanna, make sure she's in a lot of pain.

"Amazing!" I say instead, hoping Aimée doesn't catch the sarcasm in my tone.

"Do I know of your company?"

"I'd rather not say yet. Mostly because I'd don't like mixing business with pleasure, and art is my pleasure, so I'd rather not mix the two worlds."

Oh my god, Fields! Where did *that* come from?! Spencer would be so proud! I'm a genius!

"Fair enough," Aimée says, "I like you," she adds and I feel my nerves lighten a bit.

We reach the safe and she makes me go through a metal detector.

"Sorry," she says, "you seem awesome but this is routine and looks can be deceiving. Plus, it's either that or I have to physically search you, and that might be more of Paige's thing."

I'm blushing right now, I don't need a mirror to tell, I can feel my cheeks burning. Somehow I manage to say, "I understand completely."

Aimée opens the door and we walk in.

Wow. This place is amazing. It's not too small, not too big. But every piece of art gets its own spot. I can tell the pieces are 'in transition', but this is like a museum all on its own. I'm sure Paige loves it in here.

"Nice, ah?" Aimée cuts my trail of thoughts.

"Oh, it's absolutely gorgeous. I feel like I'm a part of something sacred."

"Funny, that's what Paige always says."

Her name has been brought up so many tomes just in the last minutes. I smile at Aimée and say, "well, this room is a really good argument to convince a person to actually go into the business."

She wraps her arm around mine, says "come on", and leads me further into the room, until at some point she stops.

"There, " she says, and I just realize I'm standing in front of a painting. "She calls it 'Piece of Mind'."

"Oh, wow. Which spelling?"

"P-I-E-C-E."

"So, it'll refer to complexity?"

"I'm guessing, yeah. You're good at this."

"My old roommate was an artist too. She made me love it. We always talked about themes and stuff."

She smiles at me and we just stand there silent for a few moments. She lets me observe the painting.

It's so breathtaking. I get it right away. Of course *I* do. It's a snow globe. Of a swimming pool. *Our* swimming pool, back in Rosewood high. I guess I picked the right gift for her. I notice the arms coming from the water, for a stroke. What am I supposed to do with you, P? You break up with me, you move to Europe, you don't talk to me for three years, but you can't let me go.

I sigh, and Aimée notices.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, it's just really beautiful."

"It is," she says and lets me resume my observation.

"Sharks instead of snow. Brilliant," I say out loud without realizing it.

"Oh, you get it?"

Shit. Of course it won't be as clear to her the way it's clear to me.

"Hmm… yeah, because of the… water, and stuff."

"Oh, of course."

I look at it for a few more seconds. It's just so overwhelming, so beautiful, so… us.

"I want it," I say quietly.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said I want it." I want it, I need it, and I can afford it. It means a few rough months are coming up, but I already have jobs booked. There's just no way I'm gonna let someone else have it. You know how I feel about original McCullerses in my living room.

Aimée stares at me for a few seconds. I guess if she doubted my intentions until now, I just proved myself as a worthy ally.

"Just like that?" she asks.

"Not 'just like that'. It's beautiful. It's breathtaking. You said it yourself, everyone wants to put their hands on her stuff. I hate to be late to a party."

She smiles at me. "How do you know I'll sell it to *you*? What if I get a better offer?"

"Because you like me, *and* I have the money."

Even if it meant I was gonna live in a cardboard box. I would still hang the painting there. If I just smile and look sure of myself, this might just happen.

We head back to the office. I'm both excited about the upcoming purchase, and feel like a complete insane person.

Aimée explains the process to me. How she sometimes sell it to traders who later on sell it at higher price and must give a certain percentage. Many times though, she sells it directly to an exclusive client. She has a few of those. They get to see the painting before it officially goes to the market. They've proved themselves worthy so they have the chance to see it before, in case they want it. She said that she's gonna have to email a picture of the painting out, just as a courtesy, but she'll just say to whomever, that she got a higher offer and sold it. I think there's a part of her that likes to keep me close until Paige can eventually be persuaded to at least give me a chance. One can only hope.

We discuss the frame for a while. She says the artist always picks one because for most of them, it's part of the artistic work, and as an agent, she must oblige. But the customer is always free to later on change it to something else. She said she can show me some options and direct me to a place where they'll give me a discount if I say I came from her office. I asked her to show me what Paige chose, and I love it. I tell her I don't want to mess with Paige's artistic process, and it's true, I wouldn't dream of it. This is how Paige envisioned it, this is how I want it.

We settle for a sum of $32,000, and I know the financial damage could've been way worse with where Paige is headed.

Then, it hits me that I can't give her a check. Whoopsi?

I also need to give her an address in NYC, and it can't be Hanna's home address because they're currently discussing Aimée's stay at said address.

I take Aimée's bank account details, tell her I'll go transfer the money and give her an address to send the painting to via email. We say our friendly goodbyes and I head out. It's clear we get along very well. Too bad it's all based on lies.

Memo to self no. 3: *Also* before killing Hanna – let her know that there's gonna be a package for one, Tori Jones arriving to her office. Must be handled with care.

I text her – "Hey. What's your office address? Explanations + killing you – later. But for now, I need it."

And so, after spending 2 hours with Aimée, off I go to the bank, to transfer a ridiculous amount of money, to pay for my ex's painting.

Nice one, Fields. I mean, Jones.


	31. Chapter 30

Nice one, McCullers.

You came back home from Ams yesterday, and you've been nothing but efficient ever since.

Even though some crazy people were standing in your way, trying to distract you from your goal. I *will* pat myself on the shoulder, thank you very much.

First of all, I stayed loyal to my plans, which made me happy.

I went by the bakery - was loaded with goods, as per usual - and asked Marie for a good recipe for a cake.

She was suspicious and reluctant to give away her secrets, but I assured her it was meant for a harmless munchkin, so she cooperated.

I was a good friend, sat at home, typed the recipe and emailed it to Aria straight away.

I guess she got it on her phone, because she replied almost immediately. It was a picture of her holding her cute dog, blowing a kiss and saying "you're the besssst! Love you!"

I giggled to myself and before I was done with that, an incoming email from Aimée arrived.

"Paije! You'll never believe it! 10 minutes after you left this morning, the gorgeous mystery lady from the gallery opening (her name is Tori Jones, that's a good name, isn't it?) came in! She bought your painting! $32,000! That's gotta be a record for the fastest purchase ever. She's so interesting, and beautiful, and she just bought your piece for a shit load of money. You gotta meet her, Paije."

I wasn't not gonna reply. Jesus Christ. I mean, of course I thought it was impressive, and crazy flattering, but why can't people accept 'no' for an answer? Some people are just way too persistent. Just like Renée, who was, by the way, waiting for me as I went downstairs yesterday to get some art supplies and food.

Encounters like that, are exactly why I don't question my need to just stay home at all times.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her without even trying to seem polite.

"Ouch. Not even a bit happy to see me? Considering I've been here almost every day this week, you've gotta appreciate the effort."

"So, what? You're stalking me now? Not exactly your style, Ren."

"I'm a woman of many hidden qualities, Paige."

"Yeah, well, this is neither attractive, or flattering. It's not like you to come after someone so strongly."

"You know I don't like to lose, Paige."

"But you have no real interest in me, and you know what? I have no interest in you, not anymore."

"We'll see about that."

"God, can't we just move on? Why must you such a bitch instead?"

"It's a condition."

"Again with the neither attractive or flattering. Nice, Renée, real nice. Well, this was as unpleasant as usual, as of late, but I have stuff to do, Renée."

"One last time, Paige. Give me one last time."

I turned to her, said "no. I can't," and left her standing there.

She's driving me crazy! Why are people like that? When you want them desperately, they don't give a fuck. When you don't, they won't leave you be.

It was never like that with Em. When I finally showed some interest, she never tried to torture me. On the contrary. She didn't wanna play games. Games are a fucking waste of time. Even when things were bad, or confusing, she never did *anything* with the intention of hurting me. If she knew I was hurt by her doing, she felt awful, guilty. I know what it's like, because I know how *I* felt every time I hurt her. It's just so incredible that no matter whom I compare her with, she's just what's best for me. She's my best friend.

This is pretty much what I got loud and clear, as a result from my encounter with Renée. I know she hates to lose. That's what's bothering me. It's in what she said. "One more time." She just wants to conquer. She wants me to cave one more time, so she can tell herself she got me to cave. I'm not gonna give her the satisfaction. I don't want her anymore, anyways. I only want Em, and I'm gonna spend my time figuring out what's the best way to go about it. Until then, these aggressions and the longing, can be channeled into the art. Which is why after that lovely encounter with Renée, I went and bought some clay, among other things.

You see, I kinda felt like sculpting. I needed a break from the canvas. Sometimes, you need to zoom out from your work for a while, so you can zoom back in, and do a better job with it. I need to work with a different material, feel something else under my fingers. It's also way less messy, even though I always manage to create a complete chaos.

I got back home around 5 PM yesterday. Morning at Ams, getting back, recipe for Aria, Renée and errands, took the majority of the day.

Just because I said I wanted to sculpt, doesn't really mean I had an idea of *what* I wanted to sculpt. And so, I sat in front of the clay pile for a while, staring, and thinking. Mostly about the future. It's that

email from Aimée that got to me.32,000 freaking dollars. 10 minutes after I left. It's not even the highest I've gotten for a piece so far. These sums are starting to become the reality of my life. I already have a lot saved. I need to start thinking about what to do with the money. I haven't touched it. I don't have the soul of a rich person, you know?

I'm simple. I don't need shiny things. I want a fire place, I want a rocking chair, and I want Em. Who also doesn't have the soul of a rich person, by the way. Not even now, as a model. I know it from the girls. She's the same old Em. Probably not exactly, but in the things that matter.

What I really want is a house. Yes, let's talk about my dream for a sec there, shall we?

I want a house. Maybe more than one. One in Paris, one back home. With a space to paint, lots of light, a big yard, a pool - that is an absolute must - and Em to share it all with me.

I wanna save this money for special occasions. I wanna send my kids to do whatever it is that they dream of doing, and I want that safety.

Once a control freak, always a control freak. As long as I can create and be with/support the people I love, I'm gonna be good. I'm gonna be more than good. I'm gonna be great.

And not just the "boring" stuff. I wanna travel, I want Emily to come with me. I want us to be able to just take off, because we have that safety net. See cultures, read, learn, eat different foods.

This is what I'm working toward. This is what I always worked toward, even without realizing it.

3 years back, thoughts about the future were what pushed me away from her. The expectations, not from her, she never made me feel like I'm not good enough, it was me. Money isn't supposed to make the whole difference, but knowing that I have it - that I can give *that kind of safety at least - makes *some* difference.

So much was going on through my head last night. I let it slip into today. But you know what? I knew I needed time to process, and I still stood up, reached the pile of clay, and started working. I had a vague, yet solid idea of what I wanted in life. I had a vague, yet solid idea of what I was about to do with the clay.


	32. Chapter 31

I wish I could say that my visit to the bank yesterday was a vague memory, but sadly, I have a very solid grasp of the day that was yesterday.

That said, I regret nothing. Maybe just not getting to Aimée's office 10 minutes earlier.

I've been in the bank for hours. Language barrier was a big part of the reason why.

By the time I got there, it was lunch break. I figured I might as well go grab food myself and so we only "got down to business" around 2 PM.

Wire transfer was, of course, the best option because then Aimée would only see bank account details, and not my own. Getting the clerks to know what I meant, however, was a completely different story.

They tried to figure out a way to understand *sort* of what I wanted, but eventually all sides involved realized we needed someone who could speak English.

The person who qualified best for the job, was the manager, who was with another client.

Long story short, I got back to my hotel room around 6 PM. Didn't leave me much time to do anything else.

When I got home I had to email Aimée to let her know the payment was complete, and write her the address to deliver the painting to. Needless to say, it meant creating an email account for Tori. Couldn't really use, emilyfields94 , could I? And then, every name that I tried, was already taken. Torijones, jonestori, , torijones1. Very frustrating.

When I finally managed to email her (torijonesfashion , I know… could've been worse though) it was about 7 PM. At least she answered straight away, saying that the payment was processed and that I should have the painting just before Christmas. Merry Christmas to me. No sarcasm. I'm genuinely happy that this painting is mine.

Since it was getting late, I figured I'd head out to what used to be Paige's favorite diner. When I visited years ago, we ate there every night. I decided I'd do the same in my current visit for the slight chance I'd bump into her.

The name of the place is "Breakfast in America", seriously! Or, B.I.A for short. The owner is American, from CT actually, and Paige loved to go there when she felt homesick, or just in need of traditional American food. Basically, a good burger, but a lot more too. They have a really awesome milkshake. We loved the milkshake.

So I went there for dinner, ended up staying almost until closing time, which was 11. No Paige luck, I'm afraid. But it actually felt nice because it brought back good memories, and I got the milkshake, of course. Most of the customers were American. It's like an escape spot in a foreign country.

So, all in all, I guess yesterday wasn't *completely* awful. But I got back from dinner so late that, once again, I hardly managed to wake up this morning.

And it's already day 5.

Do I feel any closer to my goal? I guess so. At least I know she's being stubborn about not seeing new people, and busy with painting me.

Aimée pretty much said that you can't predict when this lady will pop out of her apartment, but for me, going over to her place, still feels like a violation of some trust and space, and I'd still rather for it to be a last resort. We're getting there, though, aren't we?

I'm actually at the diner right now. Today wasn't too fruitful either, and all this anxiety makes me feel kinda lonely. I asked the girls to give me some space because this is enough to handle, and they make things more intense. But I could really use a phone call or a hug from them now.

I guess my sadness shows because Craig, the owner, came and talked to me for a while. He didn't remember me from years ago or anything, but he's just nice by default and it's part of his costumer service.

I assured him I was fine, but he clearly didn't buy it because I got a vanilla muffin a few minutes later, on the house. He made me smile, I'll give him that. And I'm also a bit tipsy.

This morning, I figured I'd go to Paige's favorite museum, Musée d'Orsay, because I was honestly running out of options. If she's out, what would she do? Grocery shopping? Perhaps. That's for tomorrow I guess.

I can't *really* complain. The museum was amazing. The building used to be an old railway station, and it contains most forms of art. Paintings, sculptors, photography – all of Paige's fields of expertise, and also furniture, which I found amazing. The works of some very famous artists are presented there, and the architecture of the place itself, makes it all the more unique.

I was there for hours before I came here. Just wandering around. Letting the feel of the place sink in. But I didn't find what I wanted to find, and I'm sick of experiencing Paris on my own.

So here I am - at the end of another day of failure - and I'm not entirely sure what to do anymore.

Without even realizing what I'm doing, I'm calling Spencer. I'm still a bit upset with Hanna and right now and I can't bring myself to explain to her why.

Spence answers straight away. That's how I know how much she loves me. All jokes aside, we don't know what she does, but it's important. At this very moment, she dropped everything she was doing, to take my call, and I love her so much for that.

"Hey, Em."

"Hey, Spence, you busy?"

"Hmm… no, not at all." Again, she's lying, I love her.

"I just needed to talk."

"Of course. How are you?"

"A bit lost, actually."

"Wanna tell me?"

I take a breath. I don't even know what it is it that I wanna say. That I'm failing? That I'm afraid of taking the last step? Afraid of Paige's reaction that is. That I just spent $32,000?

With the logic of a person who doesn't know what he wants to say, I end up telling her *everything*. Day by day, since I got here. I tell her about the painting, too.

"You bought the painting?!"

"You saw it?!"

"Well…"

"I guess it makes sense."

"Don't be upset, Em. You know she only talks to me, because who she really wants to talk to, is you."

"Then why isn't she just doing that?"

"Maybe she needs more time. You heard what Aimée said, you've seen the paintings. You saw your arm in that last painting."

"You noticed it?"

"Of course I did, Em. By now, I know to look for it. And I even told Paige I saw it."

"What did she say?"

"She told me to shut up, basically, in a nicer way."

"Figures."

We're both silent for a few moments until I speak again.

"I just don't understand. How much more time does she need? I can't be without her, she can't be without me. So why is this happening? What do you think I should do?"

"Em, you know I can't answer that. Maybe you should just come home. It's almost Christmas."

"Yeah, it's also almost her birthday."

"I know that. I don't want you to misunderstand me. I don't mean to say that you should give up. Maybe just… regroup? We can think about this together. Not just a one man mission. Trust me, we all want you two to get back together. If not for your happiness, at least for the fact that we won't have to hear about it anymore!"

I release a bittersweet giggle and speak again.

"Yeah, like Hanna, emailing Aimée. While I'm there! She texted Paige for Aimée's details. I guess that was her subtle way of figuring out if I got to Paige already, since I wasn't talking to any of you."

"Yeah, well, to be honest, Em, we all texted Paige."

"What?!"

"Sorry! We couldn't help it! You weren't talking to us and we had to know!"

"Great! Well, now you know what it feels like to be in the dark! What did you tell her?!"

"Well… I *tried* to casually ask her what's up, and Aria asked for a recipe for a cake."

"Again with the cake!"

"I know. Sorry, Em."

"It's okay. I guess I should've known."

"You really should've."

I smile and I know she can hear that.

"Well, Spence, I gotta go. It's getting late."

"What are you gonna do, Em?"

"Well, I'm gonna listen to you. If I can't bring myself to do that final step, if it feels wrong, maybe I should just come home. But I still have a day and a half left. So, we'll see."

"Oh, Are you flying back to Philly? Like, getting home a week before Christmas?"

"Hmm… yeah. Figured if things go bad, I can at least cry to my mom and to you guys. When will you get in town?"

"Hmm… Like probably a day or two before Christmas eve. Sorry. Work."

"No, I get it. I'm just glad I'll get to see your silly face!"

"Now, now, Em! No need to get mean!"

I'm smiling and I can tell that she's smiling too.

"Love you, Spence. Gotta go."

"Love you too, Em. We'll figure this out. I promise."

"Thanks."

We're done talking, and I'm done with my comfort muffin so it's time to go home. Might actually go to bed at a normal hour tonight, so I'm fresh for my grocery shopping stalking tomorrow.


	33. Chapter 32

I'm so happy the place is packed with groceries, so there will be *no* interruptions brought by annoying people today. Except for maybe Aimée. It's not like there's that much left of today anyways.

Last night I was all about the clay. I was ready to work, but after a few moments, I realized that - with what I had in mind - I had no choice but sit and sketch. It's because of the way I wanted to work. Considering I was about to sculpt a house with a few floors, but I wanted *all* the rooms, I had to decide how the insides of it were gonna look like.

Sketching isn't really my thing. I don't do well with planning in advance. I work with impulses, and urges. From my heart, to my art. That's my lame motto. But I think a good artist, needs to sometimes adjust. Adjust to a certain circumstance, in order to achieve something that won't be achievable otherwise.

Sounds a lot like life, doesn't it?

As much as my urge was to just touch the clay, my brain told my body to sit down with a sketch paper and a pencil. Be a good girl. A smart girl. It's not that it took the emotions out of it. It's just a logically guided stream of emotions. All about the organizing. Not neglecting a thing.

And I didn't go to bed before I was done sketching. It took a few hours. Just because it's not my default way of work, doesn't mean I'm not being perfectionist about it. On the contrary. This morning was all about the review of last night's work, then taking pictures. You see, if I was gonna build walls, even though the inside is full of details, a lot of them would be hidden. Photos are to show the buyer, what's inside.

Since I hate hiding details that *should* be seen, I was contemplating a series. Like "Floor I", "Floor II", "Exteriors", etc, but I figured it'd kill the magic. I want this thing to be a whole. A whole made out of pieces.

Which is why, instead, I was trying to figure out a way to maybe lift the roof, and open the floors. Kinda like a 3D puzzle. Basically, it took forever.

I've been working on the first floor for the majority of the day. I was wondering if I should start with the base, like a back yard and what the house will stand on. I dropped the idea though, because truthfully, I wanted to have the right sizes of the house first. When I know how a thing is supposed to look like at the end, I'm more than capable of scratching the whole thing and start from zero. That's just who I am. It's a very bad tendency, because something that can drive you crazy, will be unnoticeable for a buyer. But that is no excuse. We need to strive for something.

This thing, this new piece, is pretty much my dream house. I was thinking about Em, and about the fact that this is what I want in life. I couldn't help but think about the lost boys, building a house around Wendy.

So it's not even done yet (or 1/3 done, even) but I'm pretty sure it's gonna be called "The Little House", just like in the story, and even though it's anything but. See how not typical the process is? You know I suck at names. Not with this one, though.

I love the shape it's getting, but again, it's a very frustrating process for me. It makes me feel like a prisoner of my own art, which is so weird considering I feel so much love towards this piece.

I'm sitting on the couch now, taking a little break. I can't help but think how funny the contradiction is. Me wanting to work on it so badly, versus me wanting to smash it. It's funny, because it parallels what's going on inside of me.

Every day, I feel like I'm getting closer and closer to finally talking to Em. Telling her what I want and why things have been like this for three years. There are so many promises I want to make, and I know that I have to, or I'll never be truly happy. But on the other hand, I'm so scared. I'm scared that I won't be able to keep the promises I want to make. Scared that I'm still me, a mess of a person, with whims and fears while Em's so sorted. She always was. Always knew what she wanted. I don't want her to be lost in all that I am. And mostly, I'm scared that she won't want to be lost in it.

On the one hand, I feel like I'm doing her a favor by being absent from her life, but on the other hand, how much longer can I keep feeling like this? Like I'm not entitled, like I'm not good enough.

It's completely immature. And also, it's getting kinda boring. I don't like to whine, yet by being like this, whining is what I do constantly.

But, don't mind me. It's just me and my bipolar ways.

Even when I ran away from this, from us, I knew it couldn't be the end. It's key. That relationship, that breakup, had an impact on every aspect of my life. Look at my art. That's the best proof of that.

I love what I do - and clearly I'm good at it - but I'm not sure I'm 100% of who I was supposed to be. Because I was supposed to be with her, and I'm not. Somewhere along the way, I lost something. Something crucial.

If I had a check list, my status with it would be pretty good by now. I wanted to travel, I wanted to create. I've done both, and established myself. Maybe it's time to end this journey. Or start a new chapter. Build upon what I've earned with hard work. Collect the rewards. Just like I'm building this house, floor by floor, the finished piece will be my award. It's about the end game.

But this sculpture means it's not just metaphorically. Because nothing makes me feel more "what might be", than actually… sculpting my dreams.

Again, now it *is* a metaphor. Well, *also*, a metaphor.

My life is my own doing. I can shape it myself. That's my biggest work of art.

Sigh.

I get up. Break is over. Houses and lives to build. Hopefully, without causing too much damages and running into too many obstacles.

This *is* my end game.


	34. Chapter 33

Well. Today is either the end, or the beginning.

It's the last day of this visit. Optimism level – at minimum.

I got up yesterday, and did as planned – googled Paige's address to see grocery stores and art supply stores in her area. Even coffee houses. I figured that even if she's working, she might want to get out for a bit. Just to take a break.

All out of luck I was.

I got to her area around noon. I think I visited 3 different coffee shops throughout the day. And again, I was circling the same 4 streets for hours, yes? I have never, in my life, been more of a stalker.

First I thought that when I actually flew to Paris for her. Then, there was the whole pretending to be someone else, buying her painting and talking to her agent thing. But this? This is truly a whole new level. Very hard core.

I had brunch at one of the coffee places, then I went to one small supermarket. Nada. I went to another, and then to an art store. By the time I got out of there, it was time for actual lunch. That's coffee shop no. 2 for you. Then, just more and more circling. I think people started to notice, but I didn't care. I marked on my map 2 art stores and about 10 grocery stores. I visited *all* of them. I even walked to her actual building, and found a bakery downstairs. It smelled so good. I walked in.

A nice lady asked me in French if I wanted anything. I told her I was an American and she switched to English and said "Oh! One of my favorite customers is an American too! She lives in this building. Maybe you know her? " Sister, do I *know* her? You bet. But, instead of saying *that*, I smiled at her and told her that America is a big place. She nodded and smiled. I ordered a croissant with butter, and she said it was on the house and added a slice of raisin bread.

"Oh, that's too kind. I really don't mean to sound harsh, just curious, but why would you do that?" I asked her.

"You seem sad. Kinda like the girl from upstairs seem every now and then. Maybe it's an American thing. Or maybe… (she raised her eyebrow) it's just an act you guys do to get free things." She gave me a smile before she continued, "she's lucky I love her. I gave her a recipe for a cake yesterday. Only because it's Paige!"

I smiled at that. It was probably a recipe for Aria. Then again, she said the P word, which led to shivers down my spine. The woman saw I was distracted.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up at her, and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for the goods. And for being so lovely." I walked outside before she could ask me more questions, and just sat on a bench, scanning the windows.

I was hoping to *maybe* get a glimpse of her. And with that, I knew I had really hit rock bottom. I didn't realize just how much, until I actually saw her. Through the window. Pacing in her apartment, hands covered in what I'm guessing, was clay.

It was like a blow to my stomach, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move. I just felt like times stopped, and then the tears came. She looked so beautiful, so real after all this time. So in my reach. So out of my reach. I have never felt more torn between pure sadness and pure happiness.

"Please look at me, P. Please. Feel that I'm here."

But she didn't. She was so focused in her work, I recognized the expression. I missed it so much. I was examining her face, every detail of it, just to make sure I remembered right. And I did. Every small thing. Her lips, her nose, her eyes. All the small things that made her who she was. It was still all there, and I released a breath, thanking the world for not letting me forget her.

And yet, I couldn't bring myself to go up there, burst her bubble. Bring down the walls she built. I wanted too, with every fiber of my being, but I had no right. Not when I know that she's working on it, that she's trying.

So instead, I was sitting on a bench, watching her, crying. It was all sorts of bad. I didn't feel like I had much dignity left. It was around 6 PM, and a policewoman approached me, asked me if I was okay.

Everyone is asking me if I'm okay.

That was when I realized that I was there for way too long, it was time to go. I told her I was fine, thanked her, and headed to the diner for dinner, still crying.

Craig didn't even ask me what was wrong. He just placed a muffin in front of me and offered a smile. At least I'm getting a lot of free yummy things.

Paige didn't miraculously come over for dinner. Of course she didn't.

And that's how we got to today. Today is her birthday.

I was packing in the morning. Found the snow globe I got her. Thinking about my relatively new artistic purchase, it got me into a really sarcastic mood.

Life and its ironies.

I was staring at it for so long before I realized that was what I was doing. But I just felt so hopeless all of a sudden, that I found myself wandering around all day. Eventually I got to the diner, and I just wanna go to that stupid apartment and kiss her, a birthday kiss. But I can't. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe with us, you *gotta* start small, out of the blue. It might be awkward at first, but still.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I got startled when a slice of carrot cake was put in front of my face. I raised my head and saw Craig smiling at me.

"I thought we'd try something new today," he says.

I smile at him and say, "Thanks, Craig. I actually love carrot cakes. Is it any good?" I tease him.

"Hey! I made it myself!"

I give him a smile, but don't say anything, so he speaks again.

"So how many more nights am I gonna see you come in here, looking like this?"

"Actually… it's my last night."

"Oh, I'm very sad to hear that. How come?"

"Well, I came here to do something, and I couldn't do it. And now my time is up."

"It's a romantic issue, isn't it?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"It always is."

We smiled at each other for a few more moments before he says, "I hope I'll see you again someday. Hopefully with that nice smile of yours on your face."

"Never say never," I say to him and he leaves me to "deal" with my cake. I always order the milkshake as well. I get enough for free, I wanna pay for *something*, you know?

I look at my watch. I gotta head out soon. I have a flight to catch and I think I wanna make a final stop on the way. I need to give her the time to come back to me, but I also need her to know that there's still something to come back to.

I can't help but think again that starting small might be the solution. As a matter of fact, it might be everything. So I take out my phone, and I text:

"Happy birthday, P."


	35. Chapter 34

"Happy birthday, P."

Gulp.

Are my eyes deceiving me? Am I actually seeing on the screen the name I think I'm seeing?

I'm so overwhelmed, happy and terrified at the same time, that I'm sure the expression on my face makes me look like an idiot.

But a second goes by, and I can't help but smile. It's Em. She wrote me for my birthday. It's the first time I've heard from her directly in 3 years. I can feel the tears start to come down. Completely out of my control, with no permission.

I'm standing frozen, 2 blocks away from my favorite diner. I was working all week, and figured – at least on the evening of my birthday, I can go, get some American food, talk to Craig, just clear my head.

Then this. I just got this.

You know how you can get a text and be all like "But what does it mean? *Does* it mean anything?" and then you over analyze it? Well, yeah, take that, and multiply it by one thousand, and that's me right now. I mean, I know everyone says that, but my case is definitely worse than yours.

I just stare at the phone. Trying to decide how to respond. Do I respond? Of course I respond! It's one thing to avoid her, it's a completely another thing to directly ignore her. But, what do I say? "Thank You," doesn't even begin to cover it. "Thank you, I miss you?" "Thank you, I'm so *so* sorry?" "Thank you, I love you?" "Thank you, I wish you were here?" Ahhhh! What does this all mean?!

Someone taps my shoulder, and I don't know why there was a part of me who thought it was Em, but it was Renée. Crap.

"I knew at one point or another you'd get out of that apartment of yours again."

"Renée, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I know how much you love this diner, I thought I'd look for you to wish you a happy birthday."

I can't take it anymore. This moment isn't too easy as it is, and this girl has been refusing to get the hint. The contradiction is just too strong. In my hand, I hold a phone with a text from the girl I love who's the epitome of everything that's good in my life, in me. And then, in front of me, there's a girl I used to love, who's the epitome of everything that's bad in my life, in me.

I just snap.

"Renée, you know what? Just fuck off! I don't know how many more times I can say it to you!"

I don't even wait for a response. I just rush passed her, into the diner, where I slam into a chair, take a breath, and just stare at the phone again. This day has been crazy. Phone calls and texts all day long, when all I wanted to do was to sculpt my little dream house. I know everyone just wants to make me happy, but here lies the not-much-of-a-secret to what's makes me happy. In this text. What do I say to her?

"Well well, she lives. Though barely, it seems."

I recognize the voice and turn around with a smile.

"Hey, Craig. You have no idea how good it is to see you."

"What's up, kiddo? You look like crap. I haven't seen you in a while and I can still tell."

"Well thank you. I feel like crap too."

"Second pretty girl this week to sit in my diner in this kind of a mood. Second one tonight, actually. There was another girl here, had pretty much the same expression on her face. She left like 5 minutes ago. Maybe there's something going around, like the flu. Lucky. Two of you, pouting at the same time? Don't think the universe would be able to manage that."

"Oh yeah? What was her deal?"

"I don't know. She was here almost every night this week, but she didn't say much. Just that it was about love."

I scoff and say, "it always is."

Craig smiles and says, "yep, that's exactly what I said to her."

We smile at each other for a few seconds before I order everything that's on the sweets menu. Shut up, I'm rich, I can do what I want.

"Oh, wow, Paige. That's your 'special occasion order'."

"It's my birthday. Plus, I'm in desperate need of some comfort food while I tackle a very important issue."

"Happy birthday, kiddo!"

"Thanks."

"Very festive you are, indeed. What's the issue you're tackling?"

"A text from a girl."

"Of course."

We smile at each other and he disappears to take care of my order.

The longer I'm sitting, the more restless I get. He brings me the food. The sugar doesn't help, and there's a lot of it. I keep staring at the text, but I just can't find the words. So for now, I do what I always do, I give up.

And now, I'm starting to get upset. With myself, with the world. I don't deserve this. I go through my pathetic existence here, far from home, left her behind, gave her nothing to hold on to. Why is she doing this? Why is she always just so… right?

With every bite I take, every minute that goes by, I feel myself lose control more and more. Craig checks up on me, but I don't let him see. I thank him for everything, I try to pay, he insists that it's a birthday/crappy mood gift, but I insist even more. He lets me pay half of the amount, I thank him and head out before I choke.

I don't know for sure, but this might be what an anxiety attack feels like. But what do I know? I'm no doctor. I stop for a moment, to take a breath, to steady my feet. And when the ringing in my ears is gone, I start walking again. I feel like I'm gonna faint.

Then I see Renée in front of me, again. Why, world? Why? Why her, why now?

"I thought maybe you'd be a bit nicer on a full stomach."

I know what she wants from me. I know that it means nothing, and I know that after we're done, I'll feel even worse. But I just want to forget. She was harassing, waiting in the shadows, like her typical self, until she caught me in a moment of weakness, because she knows how I can be. And so she did. She found me in a moment of weakness. Of fear. My biggest one. The queen of self sabotaging is in the house. And she's about to do some serious sabotaging.

So I kiss her. And she goes with it. Of course she goes with it, that's what she wanted. To win. While I just wanted to stop thinking.

I keep kissing her, we take a cab, I kiss her all the way to my apartment, my head is pounding, there's a throbbing pain. It's my body's way of telling me "don't do this." But I don't listen.

We head up the stairs, she takes off my jacket.

She breaks the kiss to say, "I knew I'd get you, birthday girl. I hope you like your present."

I can't look her in the eyes. As bad as it sounds, she's playing a role. I have no interest in what I'll find in her eyes, so instead, I look past her shoulder.

Just like that, the moment is gone, and reality slaps me in the face. Because across the room from where we're standing, I can see the house sculpture. I back away from Renée and finally look at her. Then I look back at the house.

She's surprised, and she follows my stare until she sees the house too.

"What is it?" she's asking. I'm not answering.

Just like I can't answer the text. Not only did I take too much time with it, I don't deserve this interaction. Look where I am right now. And with whom. God, I'm such a coward. But it just can't be an excuse to keep falling deeper anymore. Thank god this ended with just a jacket being taken off.

"I can't do this." I *finally* say.

"It's the drawer picture girl again, isn't it?"

"It's about her, and it's about me, and it's about what I need to do to if I ever want to be worthy of her. *This* (I point the both of us) isn't it."

"The damage is already done, Paige. It means we might as well go through with it."

"I know the damage is done, but it means exactly the opposite from going through with it."

She looks at me, finally realizing she lost the battle, and the whole war.

"So, that's it?" she asks.

"Yes. And Renée, I think we both know that I really mean it when I say I don't wanna see you again. The outcome won't be good. You know that I have my limits before I snap. Don't make me go there."

One look in her eyes, I see the fear, and I know she got the message, loud and clear.

She says, "your loss" and leaves. And I know, at long last, I know, I won't be seeing her again.

But she was right. The damage is done. I look at the house, and know I need to rebuild from scratch, again. Then I look at my phone, and start to cry.

What am I doing? What was I thinking?


	36. Chapter 35

What was I thinking? Oh, right. I wasn't thinking. I was feeling.

I had a strong feeling about something, and I followed that feeling all the way to Paris.

As a person who – at a few points of her life – has been forced to go against what she felt, I vowed to never let it happen to me again. Not if I could help it.

Sometimes my guts lead me the right way. Sometimes, the direction is right, but maybe the way itself isn't, and I fail.

Like this time.

I don't regret coming here. I will never regret trying to get Paige back. I *can't* regret something like that. But I refused to see for a while that it wasn't up to me. I used this visit to plant the seeds for the possibility of something, now I gotta go. After planting a few more seeds.

I sit in a cab and text Spencer.

"I did what I could. I even texted her. But she didn't answer. I'm coming home."

I guess Spencer - being the good friend that she is - was expecting this, because she answers straight away.

"Alright, Em. I'll see you in a few days. We'll make this work. Promise. It's not the end."

"I really hope not."

I almost add – "because if there's something I learned from this trip, it's just how much I still love her, adore her, and want to be with her. And that my heart can never belong to anyone else but her. Not like this."

But I don't add it.

Texts. You can say so much, with actually saying so little.

I texted Paige. I actually texted her. And she didn't answer. I think it told me all I needed to know, right? She couldn't even answer my text. My nice, non obligatory text. Why is it so hard for her? Did I make her like that? Did I push her to this?

But, the fact she didn't answer, didn't make me change my mind. She might not be able to handle me, and her not answering might hurt like hell, but I meant what I said. I love her, and I want her to know… that when and if she's ready to come back to me, she has a place to come back to.

Which is why I'm where I am right now.

"Don't leave, I'll pay for as long as I'm in there," I say to taxi driver, and head into Aimée's office.

It's around 7 PM and I'm just praying that's she's a crazy workaholic, like she seems, and works extremely late.

I sigh with relief as I see the light coming from her office. I buzz the bell.

"Who is it?" she asks through the intercom.

"It's me! Hmmm… Tori!" I say, almost forgetting the role I'm playing, because this girl made me feel so comfortable around her, that all the masks are down.

She buzzes me in and immediately stands up to greet me.

"Cherie! You're lucky I'm here so late! Well, not really lucky, I'm always crazy like that. Is everything okay?"

I giggle, because she's really adorable, and say "Yes, and yes. Yes to – everything is okay, I'm not here to ask for my money back, and also yes – I figured you're the crazy worker type. Was hoping you'd be here."

"What's up, then? Not that it's not good to see your lovely face!"

"Why thank you, madam! I actually need to fly back to the US tonight. Some business stuff came up unexpectedly."

I hate it when lying becomes so easy to me. Hate it *so much*. But what's the point in telling her now? I might just hurt her. With what I'm about to do, she's gonna know at one point or another, just how much I trust her.

She says, "I'm sorry to hear that! I was really thinking that if you stick around long enough, I can get you to meet our wonder girl. It's her birthday today, by the way."

I smile at her, hiding the fact that a) what she said about eventually meeting Paige cuts me like a knife, and b) I know all about the fact that it's her birthday. But all I say is:

"Oh, then my timing is perfect!" and I hand her the box with the snow globe I got for Paige.

"What is this?" Aimée's asking.

"Well, since I never got to meet her, and her work really touched me, I figured I'd leave something for her. You can tell her it's a birthday/Christmas/your art is amazing present. From a secret admirer, or something."

"Awww! What is it?"

"Now, now, it's private! You do not open this, sneaky one! Do you hear me?"

"It's one of the nice lingerie you showed me, isn't it? The one with the lace?"

My god, she *is* Hanna. Also, I actually should've thought about it. Too late.

"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't." I say playfully.

We smile at one another and she says, "I'm sure she'd appreciate the gesture, Tori. She's a really good girl. Just a bit messy sometimes. But that's what makes her interesting."

"I'm sure she is. Both of those things," I say, but actually think, again, how I already know these things. She *is* a good girl. And she *is* messy. When it comes to Paige, I can do messy. When it comes to Paige, I *love* messy.

"Will we be seeing you again soon?"

"You never know, but I do hope so."

She hugs me goodbye, promises to watch over the little box for Paige, and says that she really loved meeting me. The feeling is definitely mutual. Maybe one day we'll be re-introduced under more… honest, circumstances.

I go back to the cab, and ask the driver to head to the airport. As much as it was hard to keep the facade on for Aimée, I'm also glad I got to end my visit with seeing her. She reminds me of Hanna so much, that I ended my stay on a good note. There's a sincere smile on my face.

Soon enough we get to the airport, I get out of the car, pay, and watch the cab as the driver drives away. I give one last look around me, and head in.

A bit later, my plane takes off. I look at the city of lights below me, breathtaking as always. But again, it's different when you can share it with someone. It's somehow prettier. I think to myself, "later, Paris." I know that the best thing for me to do now, is to sleep, and that the next time I hit the ground, I at least get to hug my mother. And Hanna. From one Hannah, to another.

That will have to do. For now.


	37. Chapter 36

As of now, it's been 24 hours since my big fail of a birthday.

I spent the majority of last night drunk, and felt entitled to do so. It's all part of the process, you see?

First – denial. Then – pain and guilt. Next on – tons of alcohol, and lastly, acceptance. At least in *my* version it's like that.

Today hasn't been that much better. At least I'm sober. But said sobriety led me back to pain and guilt.

I'm sitting at home, being a complete slob, bowl of nachos in my lap, staring at my sculpture. I use one hand to eat said nachos, and hold my cell phone to stare at Em's text in the other. It's like a trance. I've been doing this for hours, this rotation. This might be a very low point for me. Really though, looking at this piece of art, I'm thinking about myself, about what I want, and how things could've been way way worse. Renée was a test. And I think I passed. Maybe barley, but I did. And why? Because the future I might still have, jumped into my head. Once again, Em saved the day, without even being present. I guess, in a way, she's always present. Especially in the past few months, there hasn't been a moment in which she wasn't. In one way or another.

I look at Em's text again. Ask myself *again* "but what does it *mean*?" start to reply, stop myself, stare at the statue, repeat.

The way to hell is paved with good intentions, and obsession and nachos.

Every time I start to reply, I'm certain that this time, I'm gonna go through with it, then I change my mind and just carefully try to not hit 'send' by mistake. I just wanna say the perfect thing, but what the fuck *is* the perfect thing?

I didn't even bother to act like a human being this morning. Still in my PJs. Shocking that I even changed last night in my state of drunkness. I may have passed on brushing my teeth/hair today.

Blah.

I take another nacho and push it into my mouth as I stare at the text, again.

A knock on the door.

Ah? It's like 7 PM, I look like shit and probably bare a similar smell. Who'd come unannounced and disturb my party of sorta self pity? Either Aimée, or Renée. I was crystal clear with Renée. It's gotta be Ams, and she's not gonna like what she sees.

"Just a second!" I say and rush to the bathroom for a quick glance in the mirror. Totally hopeless. Whomever it is, probably Aimée, will have to deal.

I walk to the door, look through the peep hole and… No way!

I open the door and there's a huge grin spread on my probably homeless looking like face.

The lovely familiar girl doesn't even wait for me to invite her in. She just walks in as she says:

"McCullers. Happy belated birthday."

"Hello Spency-loo. Long time no see! Hmm… thanks? Don't take this the wrong way, but… What the fuck?"

She doesn't really respond, she just smiles and lands on the couch, making herself comfortable. She's looking around, then at me again, checking me out, top to bottom, clearly disapproving of my current state.

"You're judging," I say to her.

"You look like a zombo."

"I'm sorry, I look like a what?"

"A zombie hobo. A zombo. It's a thing. Spread the word."

"That's… actually sort of brilliant."

She smiles at me and says:

"Wow, you bastard. I really missed you." She decides to finally really acknowledge me and she stands up, walking toward me for a hug. I hug the girl - appreciating the gesture given my current odor - surprised that she's even here in my apartment considering she spends her days in D.C.

"What? Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Hmm, hell yeah Spence, but kinda, you know… surprised? What? Langley gave you a break *that* easily or are you on a mission?"

"Oh shut up, Paige and get us some snacks. We need to talk." She then notices the nachos and adds "Oh, I see you already got *that* part covered. Never mind." She sits back down and grabs the nachos. I reach for a chair to sit in front of her as I ask almost instantly:

"Is Emily alright?!" No matter how long it's been, worrying about Em, especially after the past few months, will always be my first instinct.

She looks at me intensely, and it just makes me even more worried, to the point of panic. I feel sick to my stomach.

"Spencer! What is it! Please tell me that she's okay!"

She sighs and finally says:

"I'm sick of being nervous about her bumping into you, on one of her visits here."

I sigh with relief. Was that it?

"Well she doesn't even now I'm here. So…chances are slim at best."

"She does now, P."

"Don't call me that." I could see I hurt her, so I quickly add, "please. That's what she used to call me. And what do you mean 'she does now'?!"

All of my defense walls are starting to crumble with confusion, but I know more is coming.

"Paige, she found out okay?! What difference does it make? If you think she's not coming here, probably walking into places you've been to together, every time she visits, you are completely deluded."

"And why would she do that, Spencer?" The possibility seems so ridiculous to me.

"Because she's still friggin' completely in love with you, you idiot!" She's getting mad now and I'm just getting more and more confused.

"Why are you telling me this? I always thought you didn't want us together."

"Wha… why?!" The way she asks makes me realize I've upset her even more. How do you do that, McCullers? But I take a breath and say what always seemed like the truth in my heart.

"Because you think I'll mess her up."

"Is that what you think I think?!"

"Isn't it?"

She laughed sarcastically. She does it a lot, she's Spencer. I think she's both mad *and* hurt right now. Not a good combo.

"*I* think, that you two are soul mates. Always did."

Wait, what? I am shocked, and in awe. She melted my heart. Just like that. Gave me the reassurance I needed from someone who's an outsider in a way. Someone who cares so deeply about Em, thinks I'm what's right for her. I feel the tears in the corners of my eyes.

"Spenc…"

"Please, call me Spency-loo. That's my code name at Langley."

"Really?!"

"No."

I smile sadly at her attempt to lighten the mood, and say:

"You know I don't think I'm good enough for her."

"Well, too bad. Because even if it was true, which is, complete and utter BS, FYI, she only wants you anyways. So be a mess all you want, but for the love of God, do it by her side. I don't know how to say it in a clearer way."

I take in what she says. I've had months building slowly towards this moment, and all of a sudden I feel like I'm on full speed, way too soon. It's really scary.

"But, at this point how are we even supposed to know that we're not just obsessed with the concept of being together?"

"Why would you be?"

"Because…we never had a closure. But maybe that's all we're gonna get out of it."

"And you're afraid."

"Yes, because always hoping to have something is better than trying and losing it forever."

"Sure about that?"

"No."

"Good, then there's hope for you yet."

"Nice. Very nice." I take a pause, but she sees I still have something to say, so she waits patiently.

"I… I'm sorry for giving you this responsibility. Of hiding our friendship. Of… reporting to me. I should've never done it. Not like this anyways. It was selfish."

"Wow, McMonster! Not so much of a monster after all, ah? As I said, might be hope for you yet!"

"Lovely, so… is that what you came here to say? Seems awfully pricey just to do the act of slapping me in the face. Metaphorically speaking of course."

She smiles.

"We can do the actual slapping if need be. No. I figured – 'Almost a new year's resolution'. Fix the girls. Save the world. Which is why I have one more thing I need to tell you."

"I'm pretty sure we covered all the surprises for today, so go ahead," I say to her with a smile. She gives me a look that says I'm totally wrong.

"What? What is it?"

She pauses, looks at me, then speaks.

"She was just here, Paige. I know she texted you. She was here *when* she texted you. She came here to get you back. You know your new painting? The snow globe one? She was the one who bought it. She left last night. I was waiting at the airport. When she told me she… failed, I hopped on my scheduled flight here. "

I just sit in front of her, looking like a complete idiot, I'm sure, in shock. Pure, utter shock. So much information is running through my head right now. So many questions. Things start to click. I try to say something, but I can't.

She was here! She texted me from here. Had I answered that text, I could've spent my birthday with her!

Wait. The American model look alike from the gallery! The mystery lady! Aimée met Em! It was Em all this time.

My head hurts as I try to recall the past few days. Where and when else did I miss her? Spence is being kind enough as to let me process everything, and just stares at me quietly.

"H…how long was she here for?" I finally manage to ask.

"For about a week."

I'm trying to make sense out of this. She was here for the art show. If I had only gone to that, I could've seen her! If I had only let Aimée organize a meeting.

Oh my god! The girl in the diner! The one Craig said was there all week, and even earlier last night! She left ten minutes before I walked in! It had to be her! Going back on my birthday to… *our* place.

She sent me all those small signs and I missed them. I'm such an idiot.

And then, only after I'm done connecting all the dots, I realize one of the first things Spencer said. It changes everything for me, and I say it out loud without even realizing it.

"She came here… to get me back."

"Yes. Thank you. I was waiting for that part to sink in."

"She wants me back. She was willing… after everything… after I… she found out we kept so much from her… and she still…"

"Yes, as I said, completely and utterly in love with you."

"I'm such an idiot. I was so caught up in everything…"

"Yeah, painting her instead of actually heading out and seeing her. One of your finest moments indeed. Well, you have a chance to redeem yourself, *and* end my misery."

I take a few more seconds, and then finally say:

"Hey, Spence? Where is she now?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that," she said with a smile. "Take me somewhere awesome, and I'll fill you in on *everything* you need to know."

"Aria didn't really need a cake recipe, did she?"

"Nope."

I'm starting to feel a bit light headed, in a good way. Excited, happy, my mind is still struggling to understand everything. There was a whole little plot going outside my art bubble in the past week. I missed so much, but here's what's crucial, and this part I know – she came here to get me back. She was ready to fight for me. 3 years later. She still wants me. It's not a question of maybe. It's a sure thing. With all of my doubts, and what I put her through, she still wanted me. She still saw what's true. She came here to get *me*. Now it's time, I'll go get *her*. And I'll *never* let go again. Yes, I'll be a mess, but by her side. Just like Spencer said. God bless her for coming here.

I can't help but smile as I quickly change, Spencer is staring at me the whole time.

"Perv," I tell her.

"Ah, you wish. Just making sure you'll also brush your teeth. That's right, you heard me. I smelled your breath."

I blush a bit, she caught me in my state of hobo… well… zomboness. I oblige and brush my teeth.

Then I realize…

"Hey, Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Zombo?"

"Em."

"Thought so. Now, how would you feel about going to see Jim Morrison's grave?"

"Morbid, cultural, historical value. You know me so well, Pages."

We smile at one another, I put on my coat - she never took hers off - and we walk to the door.

I say one more thing:

"But seriously, what is it that you do?"

"Nice try."


	38. Chapter 37

It would've been really nice to say that ever since I got back yesterday, things have been smooth.

Well, nothing extreme happened, but that's kinda my problem. Nothing happened. It finally dawned on me that I've done this crazy thing, and the outcome was nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. My balance is now showing $32,000 less, as to show how much of a nothing this whole thing means.

And I left her a present. It's a Rosewood snow globe. She's gonna know it's from me. She can't ignore me forever, she can't run away from me forever. Even though 3 years are a forever that lasts 1095 days (and counting), things are bound to shift, one way, or another.

I'm just sick of waiting. I'm not the type who sits around and does nothing, so I did anything but, this past week. Sadly, some things are just out of my control.

When you build up to seeing the other half of your soul, after almost three and a half years, expect to maybe spend their birthday and Christmas day with them, it kinda sucks when you don't. And that's an understatement.

So I guess I'm mad. At myself, at the world, at Paige. For being such a stupid girl and not answering my text. A "thank you," I could've worked with, I could've said "we're getting somewhere." But a nothing? What can I do with a nothing? I'll tell you what I can do, a big nothing. Or Nada. If you feel like the word nothing has been said too many times.

I came back yesterday. My mom picked me up, and I just didn't let go from her embrace. Quite selfish, considering I didn't say a word to her about my trip. I was basically using her to get some motherly love. Like when you're sick while far from home. All you want is your mom to come and make you soup. It happens to me every now and then since I moved to LA. So in the current situation, I was playing the role of myself, my mom was playing the role of *her*self, and in the role of my soup, was the embrace.

I just wanted to be home. Considering no big tragedy happened, I felt guilty for feeling so sorry for myself. But I couldn't help it. I needed comfort. I wanted the warm and familiar thing that was Paige, but I couldn't have that. Instead, I had to find an alternative warm and familiar thing. Home. My room. My bed. Being in Rosewood. It always makes things a bit better.

I let my mom lead me in, I took a shower. I had flight smell. You never wanna have flight smell. So after I changed, brushed my teeth and had tea, I let my mom take me to the couch, and put my head in her lap as we were watching a film.

Dad was out getting some of my favorite foods. Mom said they weren't sure until the very last moment if I'd actually been on the plane. I guess they figured I'd change my mind mid way, sky dive my way into the ocean and grab a fisherman's boat to head back to shore. That made more sense to them than me actually… giving up.

I didn't "just" give up. But I don't expect them to understand, mostly because I hardly said a word about the trip since I got to Paris. But when I finally texted them that I landed, my mom frantically sent my dad out to get stuff for me as she headed to pick me up.

Parents. They always think it's things like treats and objects that make home… well, home. They don't get that it already *is* home. Just by being there whenever you get back from being far. The familiarity, the memories, the presence of loved ones. I didn't need food. I wanted my dad home. But then I was like, "if he's already out, might as well tell him to also get some pancake mix. Just in case."

"It's already on the list, honey."

"Awww… you guys know me so well. Tell me more about what's on that list."

"Gummy bears."

"Mmmm…"

"Pop Tarts."

"Yeah… wait, which flavor?"

"Both Chocolate Fudge *and* Cinnamon…"

"Tell me more…" This is like food porn.

"Strawberry cupcakes. Hmm… Coconut too…"

"What!"

"Em, you're not the only one in this house. I don't mind coconut myself. Plus, you never know when we might have guests. A good host is always prepared."

"Fiiiiiine. Go on. Please."

She kept going through the list of just a few of my favorite things. All the things I can't eat back in LA because of work, but I'm home for the holidays now. And mom also promised to cook. She was talking and I eventually drifted to sleep.

I woke up in my bed this morning. I'm sure daddy came home and they both carried me up the stairs. Crazy parents. I love them. But that didn't mean I felt a need to get out of bed as I remembered why I was so emotionally drained the night before.

My phone was lying next to me. I picked it up. 1 text message. Paige?

I leaned on my elbows and checked the message quickly. It was only Aria. Pffft. This was the kind of anticipation that 5'2'' just couldn't fill!

She texted me last night after I already fell asleep and wanted to hang out, but… I was asleep. And I think it was good I had some family time with my mom.

I texted Aria back, apologizing for the night before and we scheduled to right about…now.

It took me a few more hours to drag myself out of bed, but I'm downstairs with Aria, and my mom, who, as she promised, cooking for me.

Spence said she won't be in town until closer to Christmas. God knows what she's doing. You can never know with her. Hanna is only coming in tomorrow. But, I lied. I love these 5'2'' with all my heart, and even though I'm cranky, I'm really glad that she's here.

It's not like I mind talking about what happened. I just know that when Han and Spencer are back, I'll have to tell the story all over again, and I get exhausted just thinking about it.

"If I tell you, and I'm sure my mom wants to hear every detail too…."

"I do."

"Figured, Mom. Anyways, if I tell you, can I count on you to fill Hannah and Spencer in?"

"Come on, Em. If there's something we're good at, it's *that*. You don't really think Spencer didn't fill me in on all the details, right?"

My mom turns to us and says, "and Aria already filled *me* in on everything."

My life is an open book. Well, not entirely. But really, I can't help but smile at how close our families are. When Aria got here I wasn't even downstairs yet. She just spent half an hour talking to my mom over tea, and now I know what about.

"This is like a very weird support group," I say.

"Well, Em, you do realize that no matter how elaborated my storytelling skills are - and, they are, hello, almost an English professor - these girls will drill you for more details."

"I know, I know."

They just stare at me, patiently, and don't push.

I know I need to talk at one point or another, so might as well start now.

And so I spill. *All* the details. Not gonna stop until I'm done. If you can't beat them, exhaust them.


	39. Chapter 38

I'm done. I'm absolutely done. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I slip away, or how far I go, Em literally comes and finds me. After all this time, she came here to get me home. She's telling me that she's okay with coming to *me* and bringing me home. And that's all that matters. I needed a slap from the universe? There it is, in black and white, no maybes. I got my slap. And it hurts like a bitch.

This is how raw and at the same time pure, our feelings for each other are.

If it was only me, I would've stayed away, but it's not.

So maybe I don't need to start from scratch. She still wants me. Maybe I could for ones just behave and listen, really listen, to what my both, heart and head tell me to do.

God knows I can name so many bad things about myself, but I'll give myself this - when I really want something, I end up fighting for it like a tiger.

I can't wait anymore. I can't take my time. I need to man up, so to speak. Unleash the inner tiger (this is not a sex metaphor, people!), and fight. Mostly with myself. But I'm going home. And I'm getting her back. Because in her own way, she pleaded to me. And I can not deny her of anything in this world. Not again. Not ever again.

I'm on my way to Aimée's office. I might be a mess, but I've been generally happy about the way I handled things lately, and I'm not just gonna vanish on Ams without a word. Plus, she probably deserves to know she's been played. Collateral damage on the way of me and Em figuring things out. Just like me putting Spencer and the girls in the position of hiding things from Em. Now, that both Em and I had our share of collateral damaging, it's really time to end this. Actually, it's about a beginning, not about an ending.

And you know what? I can do this.

When we moved in together, she asked me if I wasn't afraid of how it would affect our relationship. After all, we'd been together for 2.5 years at that point, but I had just been away for a semester. Not to mention, moving in together meant taking the next step. I remember what I told her then, word for word.

"You know, when I came out so I'd at least have a chance of being with you. Yes, I did it for me, to change my life, but you're the reason *why* I wanted to change my life. You must know that. I think that many coming out stories contain that person who made it worth it. The person that the thought of being with them, gave you the strength to take the leap. You made me wanna take the leap, Em. You will *always* make me wanna take the leap."

She did back then - she did so many times since - and she certainly does now.

I left her to begin with, because there was only one leap left for us to take, and it scared me. It scared me, because I wanted it so badly. But I can't live my life without her, so the alternative, is living my life *with* her. It's time I take that leap.

Spence left this morning, and I'm flying out the day after tomorrow. God bless Aimée's for managing to get me the very last seat on the flight on Christmas week. I'd fly tomorrow, but I made myself a promise that I'd finish my sculpture before I go. It feels symbolic somehow. Finish sculpting my end game, my hardly a clean slate. Then, I go and get my end game, and ask for somewhat of a clean slate. Without the part of erasing our entire history. I'd never wanna go all Eternal Sunshine like that. No matter what.

I guess I will be using that birthday gift from Aimée, after all. Does she know how smart she is? And have the powers of a prophet? She must know, since she's a prophet.

I buzz the bell at Aimée's office.

"Who is it?" she asks through the intercom.

"Your worst nightmare *and* greatest fantasy."

"Ooh la la! All in one?" she says as she buzzes me in and I can't help but giggle.

I walk in and she welcomes me with a huge smile. I've been a bit MIA in the past 3 days.

"*Here*'s the birthday girl who won't even pick up the phone."

"Sorry! I've been a bit pre-occupied!"

"Anything interesting? Do tell!"

"Well, actually…"

"Seriously! I didn't really expect… Tell me! Well, I do know it's not the stunning girl I wanted you to meet, because sadly, she left."

"Wait… how do *you* know she left?!"

"Hmmm because she… wait… how do *you* know she left?"

"Ams. We need to talk. You know that painting? The last one?"

"I just express delivered it this morning. It should be in NYC this afternoon. Their time. Wait! You sneaky bastard! You pretended all this time! You had a secret affair with her, didn't you?"

"Hmmm… not so secret, not right now, more like 3 years ago, and I wasn't the one who was pretending."

"Wait? What? Are you saying that…"

"Amsi, you met Emily. She was the one in the gallery, she was the one who bought the painting. *Again*. She did the painting trick to me, again! I never learn!"

"So, that explains a lot. Ohhh… she's *good*. I definitely wanna be friends with *her*."

"Man! I can't believe I missed her! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"What?! How was *I* supposed to know?! Plus, I tried to get you to meet with her!"

"This whole thing sucks!"

"Wait, how do you even know it was her?"

"One of her best friends - not Hanna, calm down, woman - flew in yesterday. She told me everything."

"Wow."

"I know."

"You do have a really good taste though. So, everything she told me was a lie. Ouch, yet very impressive. Talking about going the distance, Paije. She did all of this for you."

"I know. Don't be mad at her. She didn't wanna ambush me, so she looked for the right way in. She's sweet. I'm sure she felt awful making you a part in this."

"Mad at her?! Ha! I'm totally a fan! I kinda need to take back all the times I told you to move on now. Instead, I'm saying – get out of here, Paije."

"That's the thing. I am. The day after tomorrow. I have some unfinished business before I go, but I wanted to come and hug you and say thanks."

"Well, speaking of all of… this, I would've told you three days ago, but you never picked up your phone, so…"

"What did you wanna say?"

"Well, what I *wanted* to say was 'the hot American chick left something for you.' But I guess now I can say – Paije, Emily left something for you."

She picks up a small box, and I'm completely breathless. Kinda terrified of opening it.

Em. You're everywhere. You were here for days without me knowing, and now, in 24 hours, this whole thing unravels itself. You left me a trail to follow. Taking leaps, yes? Let's start with a small one.

I take the box in my hands, and detach the card to read it first. The moment I see the familiar hand writing, it cuts me like a knife. And at the same time, I feel like I'm walking on air. Let the familiarity of her lines and feminine hand writing, caress me. I read the card.

"To my brilliant artist. I wish I could've seen you face to face."

I can feel the tears. She didn't sign, she didn't need to sign. She didn't say "love" or "xoxo"ed. But she wrote "*my* brilliant artist." I'm hers, and she knows that. I can't thank her enough for still knowing that, even though I've been so bad at showing it.

"Good card?" Aimée asks me.

"*Great* card." I tell her, take a breath, and slowly unwrap the gift wrap from the box. Aimée speaks before I'm done.

"Paije, if you need privacy…"

"It's okay, Ams. You're my best friend. I want you to see me in my highest, and lowest. And you deserve a few explanations, too. Also, it's not in the right shape to be lingerie."

"Yeah, she already showed me some of her lingerie. Lucky girl, you are."

"She did?! How did it look… I mean. Why did she show it to you?"

Aimée is laughing at me. I'm blushing. Of course this is happening right now.

"Listen, Paije. She came in from shopping, which now I think was a cover story actually… hmmm… anyways, I peaked. And then on your birthday, when she left the box, I was like 'seeing your lingerie, I think you should probably leave *that*'. And she was like 'not a bad idea,' but anyways. Yes. And to answer your real question – lace. Lace and see through things."

"I *love* lace and see through things. You can see through them! It's an incredible concept!"

"Yes."

We stare at each other for a few seconds, before I break the silence.

"I think I'm gonna open this now."

"Yes, you do that."

I keep unwrapping the paper, and open the box.

I can't describe how I'm feeling right now. Seeing what I'm seeing.

I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing.

It's placed on my palm, and I probably dropped my jaw. Aimée speaks.

"Is that…"

"Yes. It is. A snow globe. Of Rosewood."

"How did she…"

"Because… she's Em."

This gift, was the epitome of everything our relationship was. Her knowing me, her mocking me, her loving me with all of my little quirks. Her calling me to come back home. To where it all started. And making sure that wherever I am, I will always have a piece of home with me.

I knew she wrapped it herself. She always wrapped all the gifts she brought me. I used to joke what would happen if she ever got me a yacht. I can't help what I'm doing right now, which is to bring the wrapping paper to my nose, and sniff it.

"Really?" Aimée asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Shut up." I whisper to her, and I swear it's really faint, but I can smell Em.

I sigh, close my eyes and smile. I feel at ease. I feel my heart has been somewhat mended. I feel peaceful. I open my eyes, see that Aimée is staring at me, not a hint of cynicism in her expression. I look at the globe again, and then Aimée speaks.

"So?" she says.

"I guess I'll be home for Christmas after all," I say to her.


	40. Chapter 39

Christmas is 4 days away. At least the entire gang is back together.

Spencer got back last night. She had some business to take care of. Clearly, no point in asking. And it's not like I didn't try, but she said: "Leave it be and just be glad I'm here like a day or two earlier! I had to do some work stuff and it ended up taking less time than expected."

She was very defensive about the whole thing, so I just let it go.

We're currently sitting in my living room waiting for Hanna and Aria to get here.

Spencer tried to ask me how I was, and hear more about Paris. I was stubborn and told her she'll have to wait for Aria and Hanna to get here, so Aria can fulfill her part, and give her all the details.

In the mean time, she's just been staring at me intensely.

"Stop it!" I say to her, and the door bell rings.

"Oh my god, saved by the bell! You are a creepy stare-er!"

"Am not. I just find you to be beautiful and fascinating."

"Shut up!" I say to her as I open the door to see Aria and Hanna in front of me. Hanna is carrying a huge package. Crap. I forgot it'll be here so soon.

So, instead of greeting Hanna after I haven't seen her in a while, I just stare at the package. Hanna breaks the silence and says: "Hmm… hi."

"Hi," I respond, still staring at the package.

"So… clearly, I have the painting. Do you still want it?"

"Yep. Paid $32,000 for it. Might as well…"

"You paid *how* much for it?!" That was my mom, eavesdropping/yelling at me from the kitchen.

Aria tries to distract my mom by pulling Hanna in with her, walking towards the open kitchen and saying, "hi Mrs. Fields! How are you?"

"I'm okay, but someone clearly needs to teach my daughter about being a smart customer!"

I ignore her, take the painting in, and lean it on the living room's wall.

"Can we see it?" Spencer asks.

My mom comes from the kitchen with the girls and say, "yes, by all means. Let's see what you spent $32,000 on, which is a detail you forgot to mention yesterday when you told us 'everything'."

I sigh - because I really can not take this right now - and unwrap layers of paper and then bubble wrap.

They all stare at it in complete silence. As do I. I've been feeling so down ever since I got back, but no point in lying. When I raise my head to look at the painting, I can't help but smile. I see myself in it, and it reminds me that there's hope for us yet.

Hanna breaks the silence.

"Wow, Em, it's…"

"I know."

"Beautiful." Aria finishes the sentence.

"You *only* paid $32,000 for this!?" My mom asks in a very entertaining turn of events.

We stare at the painting for a few minutes before my mom asks: "Is that you in the painting?!"

"It is."

"Paige puts Em in pretty much all of her work," Spencer adds.

"Emi, you really shouldn't let a girl like that slip through your fingers."

"Mom!"

This can't be happening. It's just way too ironic.

"What?! I'm just saying…"

"What do you think I've been doing in Paris for a week?!"

As we continue this somewhat of an argument, Hanna pulls Spencer to the kitchen, while poor Aria just helplessly looks back and forth between Mom and I.

"I know you tried to give her space but maybe…"

"No! No 'maybe'! I can't force her to do something if she's not ready!"

"Maybe she needs you to show initiative!"

"Hello! A week in Paris *for* her!"

I talk to her but at the same time try to listen to Hanna and Spencer in the kitchen. I'm sure they have some thoughts regarding what's occurring right now.

I can hear Hanna almost whispering: "Well?"

Spencer responds with: "Not now, Hanna!"

I hear a beep and realize someone got a text. I turn around and see it was Spencer.

"Is that her?" Hanna asks.

"Not now, Hanna!" Spencer responds, turns around and notices the three of us are staring at the two of them.

"What is going on?!" I ask.

"Nothing." Spencer says. "Just some very late Christmas scheming."

I don't know if I buy that or not, but between the painting being inches from me, my mom telling me all the things I already know, and the three of them, I'm starting to feel a bit claustrophobic.

Hanna tries to break the silence and says: "So, how about discussing the bathing suits line *now*? Ah? Colorful stuff?"

I'm well aware that they are all just want to cheer me up and be helpful, but it just irritates me.

"Ahh! You are driving me crazy! *All* of you! This is exactly what I was trying to avoid! I'm out of here!"

"Wait!" Hanna says, "where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"But… Aria and Hanna just got here!" Spencer says.

I look at Aria. She just pouts. But it's not gonna work.

"Well, Aria and my mom can tell you all you wanna know. And probably add some of their own much appreciated input. Bye!"

And I walk out annoyed and frustrated, knowing that if I don't calm down, they will be the ones to suffer.

They can talk as much as they want, and they will. I'll get back home later and either see all of them looking at me feeling sorry for me, or just my mom. Either way, I'm gonna get pity, and I hate pity.

It doesn't take me long to get to my old high school, and I just hope the bar that was missing in the fence surrounding the gym area, is still gone.

And it is. Apparently a week of unhealthy food in Paris didn't do *that* much damage, as I manage to squeeze myself in.

Without even thinking about it, I'm walking straight to the pool.

Paige and I used to do it every time we got home from college. Go visit the old pool. She has one in her back yard, but it was never the same as having a completely silent atrium for ourselves. Not to mention, breaking in gave us a bit of a thrill. Sometimes we just sat at the edge, with our legs in the water, sometimes we went for a swim.

This place had a therapeutic effect on me, and I just needed a few moments to catch my breath, to sort my thoughts. Get rid of that noise in my head, caused by the combination of both the people around me, and my own thoughts.

I fold my pants all the way up my knees, and sit on the edge of the pool, legs in the water.

I sigh and just try to calm down. Let go of the anger.

When I landed, I was so happy and relieved to be home, to see my mom, the girls.

Now? I don't know. I feel pressured. Like, I came home and wanted a few days of sweet denial and not thinking too much, just hanging out with my best friends. But while they're usually very keen to step in and be a distraction, it seems like this time around, they're doing a sucky job.

I can't blame them. We're people. We want answers, in black or white. Something that our minds can understand.

Loving someone enough to include them in your art constantly, but then ignore said someone when she sends a birthday text your way, is not black and white.

It doesn't make sense.

But *I* get it. Because I get *her*. And they want me to clarify, so they can get it too.

Our little gang of four have the tendency to always look for answers. But we are also very good in thinking about things a while longer, and realizing that some things aren't black and white.

Like falling in love with a teacher.

Like when your mom steals money from the bank.

Like when you are 18 and find out your dead best friend's brother, is actually your brother too.

Like when you're so in love with someone, but have to stay away.

I know that they probably thought about all of the above the moment I left, and I also know that I shouldn't be so mad.

This is why we take time outs. To not hurt the people around us.

Wow, I just realized this applies to Paige too.

I just wish her time out wasn't taking so long.

I sigh again, take my legs out of the water, and leave.

When I get home I open the door, to see 4 pairs of eyes staring at me.

They don't look at me with pity though, but with guilt.

"We're sorry," Hanna says. "We're dumb."

"I'm not. But I'm sorry too." Spencer says.

Hanna elbows her, and I can't help but smile.


	41. Chapter 40

I sit on the plane, waiting for it to take off, with a stupid smile on my face.

Whatever happens next, I'm not leaving Rosewood without getting exactly what I want.

Considering I know a happy ending is ahead, no matter what, I think I can allow myself to sit back and enjoy. Well, it's a flight, not very enjoyable, usually, but you get me.

I'm just a bit nervous because I haven't seen Em for so long. What if I'm too different? What if she doesn't find what she sees to be attractive anymore?

Apparently, Em told the girls she saw me when she was here. Once on Aimée's website, and then actually through my window.

I'm torn between being upset with myself for not knowing she was so close and feeling relieved that I'm still… appearance worthy.

So I know that logically I shouldn't worry, but… this whole thing is far from being logical.

Spencer didn't wanna say much more about what Em told them. Spence figured that at this point, we should probably not play the game of involving other people anymore, and just talk face to face.

I agree. I put them in this position for far too long anyways.

And Em… I can't even begin to imagine how she feels like. She came here for me, but it's not like we could just… resume. We gotta have "the talk." I mean, she must be mad as well. Like all the things I've done until now weren't enough, I had to stupidly not answer her text out of fear.

La la la. I'm so stupid.

And to think she was downstairs, looking at me, feeling like she couldn't reach out…

I shake my head and my whole body, to stop the shiver that goes down my spine, just from thinking about it.

About how it probably made her feel. How I basically failed, and wasn't there for her. Not for the last three years, and not this past week.

Of course she didn't think she could reach out. Why would she? I cut all ties for years, I sent out a message of "don't contact me." What else would she think? But she *could* reach out. Because if she had, I swear I would've just wrapped my arms around her, and never let go. That was exactly the point. That's *why* I haven't seen her. I knew that once I did, all of the walls would come crashing to the floor. All of the reasons for why I stayed away, would vanish, and my mind would go blank as I breathed her in.

My god, I have so much making up to do. And I will.

I'm probably gonna have to be her slave for like a year. I know what you're thinking, but I mean groceries, driving around… the boring stuff.

Maybe she'll feel sorry for me if I tell her I had to fly economy. Flying economy on an international flight, during Christmas week? Super torture. Yes, yes, that oughta get me some slack.

And hopefully many, *many* kisses.

It's funny how Spence won't fill me in on all the details. They have at least some of Em's story, and they've known about my shenanigans all along, they're pretty much the only ones with the big picture.

Normally, I'd obsess over something like that. Someone other than me knowing of all my private business. But after all the girls did for me, for us, and how I misjudged them… I mean, I was *sure* they didn't want me with her. I thought that they loved me, and wanted to help both of us get over that breakup. Individually.

This entire time though, they tried to push back and forth, put a word in when possible, and do a little gesture. They wanted us back together. They just didn't wanna over step. Why is my head always telling me that things are different from what they actually are?

A girl loves me, and I think I need to stay away. Friends support me and I think they're trying to keep me away from something. I'm this awesome artist who gets clients from all over the world and works from Paris, but still thinks she's the girl from Rosewood who used to stare at the floor.

Why? Why do I feel so flawed no matter what I do? I had a few good years of self esteem, with Em, with the way she looked at me. It was only during the last few months before our breakup, that I asked myself, "why is she looking at me like I'm the most wonderful thing in the world? Can't she see that's not who I am? She's looking at someone who doesn't exist."

I stopped believing. At some point, things were too good for too long, and I stopped believing. That this could actually happen for me.

I wanna be the person I could see through her eyes again. If she'll still look at me like that, I think I might be able start believing it with time. Until I do, I'll mental note myself day after day, list all the proofs to why I *am* that person. Hopefully, at some point it'll stop being a logical explanation, and will become my actual truth again.

And no matter how scared I get, I do not leave her side. I let her witness all of it. She owns it too, because I'm hers. All of me.

Oh my god, am I gonna over analyze things this entire flight?! I will lose my freaking mind.

How did Em do this for a week? I need to remember to tell her how much I admire her persistence, consistency, and apparently, her acting skills.

I also need to remember to tell her that I love her. Like, totally, madly in love with her. Must not forget to actually say it.

Ha, like there's any chance *that* will happen.

I think I took care of everything.

I finished my sculpture, took tons of pictures. If all goes well, maybe I can spend Christmas day sitting with Em on the window seat, showing her the pictures, explaining the meaning of the sculpture to her.

My god, the painting. All of them. She saw. She knows… that she's in all of them. I would feel embarrassed, but thankfully, Spencer at least said that Em was really touched by it.

That's good. Because it was always done out of love. It was my way to always see her.

Maybe soon I won't have to paint her from memory.

I close my eyes at the thought, and smile. It just makes me feel truly happy for the first time in ages.

I knew that by the time I landed, I'd be a weird emotional mess with a completely clouded brain. Which is why I also texted Spencer beforehand, asking her to pick me up.

Thank god she agreed.

I couldn't tell my folks I was coming.

First, it'll be nice to surprise them. Second, had they known, they would've insisted on picking me up, taking me home, and talking for hours.

I can't afford it.

I'm going from the airport, straight to Em. Who is, thankfully, *not* straight.

Spencer knows she's just playing the part of the messenger delivering the news. Me being the news, of course. But she also knows, that if someone is to be killed, it'll be said news and not the messenger.

I feel bad because I'm basically using her as free car service, and she's only gonna drop me off. I'll hardly have time to hang with her, but that's okay, we'll have the ride to Em's house, and I think Spencer can't wait for all of this to be over.

And *I* can't wait for it to start.


	42. Chapter 41

I started the day with a run. I could already tell this day was a bit better than the one before. The magic of a wonderful shower, and a wonderful bed. Basically, the magic of home. Yes, I'm a nice person again, so I'm back to enjoying home today and actually appreciating things. And people.

As I went down the stairs, I saw the painting leaning against the wall again.

I couldn't help but smile as I stopped next to it and touched it.

"Aren't you supposed to *not* touch paintings?" this was my dad. He was standing with my mom, both staring at me with smirks on their faces, and they really startled me.

"Dad! You *never* sneak upon a girl in Rosewood! You know that! Plus… It's mine, I can do whatever I want to it."

"Are we still talking about the painting, Emi? Because if we're not, I don't need to know the details."

This time it was my mom. I smiled at her and said, "you know, I think things will be okay…"

"Em, she can't stop painting you. You're constantly on her mind. And you left her that amazing gift. *And* wished her a happy birthday. From everything you told me, I think things will be more than just okay."

I smiled at her, said "thanks mom," kissed her on the cheek, my dad as well, and went for my run.

I passed by the McCullers' house and told myself I should stop by and say hello to her parents. Maybe tell them a bit about how she was doing. But that's for later tonight.

I started running. Music on. My "Forever Favorites" playlist. That list was pretty much 'good times' guaranteed. It's not like all the songs were happy and fun, but each one promised 100% emotion. So if it was a sad song, I was all into it, on the verge of bawling. If it was happy, I would skip. Very unstable, but feels a lot like therapy.

I ran for about two hours. It was so nice. Paige and I used to run together a lot. She would always joke about me slowing her down. One day I wanted revenge, so I made her work way too hard by being far ahead of her. I made it seem effortless. It actually wasn't. Paige was in a really good shape. It kicked my butt. But it made her work so much harder and *she* wasn't as good in making it seem effortless.

"I hate you," she said breathlessly when we were done, and I just grinned at her with my arms crossed on my chest and my eyebrow raised.

"No, you don't. You *so* don't."

"You smug bastard! Come here!"

"You're completely sweaty! Come on, I'll race you to the shower."

And then I gave her a peck on her lips to distract her, and ran to make sure I got to the shower first.

She took a second then yelled, "you see? Hate you!"

I turned around, smiled and said, "no, you don't," then kept running.

"You know I'm gonna use the shower with you anyways!" she yelled from behind of me. I just smiled and kept running. She was quite right about the shower.

The memory of that day made me smile. Because I believed in her now. I believed in us. And I knew my good mood wouldn't last for very much longer, but I just need to maintain control. Until she comes to me, I just need to make sure that when I'm losing it, I find my way back to that place full of faith. So while I wait, I'll run, I'll listen to my "Forever Favorites", and I'll stare at the pool. Maybe I'll purchase some more art, we'll have to wait and see.

I'm not a big believer. Not after everything I've been through in my short life. But I believe in people. I believe in circumstances and consequences, and above all, I believe in her.

I know how cheesy it sounds, but every time she hurt me before, she always came back and made sure things were better than they'd ever been. We both did. This time it's just taking longer. But that's what faith is all about, isn't it?

The tests. The rough days. And how we cope.

I walked into my parents' house, still smiling from my full of faith state of mind.

Dad noticed me and said: "Did we win the lottery and I didn't get the memo?"

"No,D ad, it's just that kind of a day."

"Good, keep it up, kiddo."

We smiled at each other and I went upstairs to take a quick shower.

The rest of the day went by pretty calmly. I sat on my window seat for a bit, was trying to read, but I was so distracted that I ended up on my laptop, drafting an email to Aimée. This time, from my real email.

"Dear Aimée, I guess that at this point, you already know that Tori Jones doesn't really exist. If you don't, you will soon. I mean, I'm sure *a* Tori Jones exist somewhere, I'm just not her. As a matter of fact, now it's bothering me. So let me Google it really fast. Yep. At least one in Virginia and one in Texas. Sorry, it got me distracted. Anyways, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I took Tori away from you, I know you liked her. And I don't know what Paige told you about me all these years, but I'm sure you're not my biggest fan."

"I wanted you to know, that I only did what I thought was right. I'm sorry you were in the way, but I need you to know, that I love Paige with all of my heart. I thought the right way to get her back was to go over there, but now I think the right thing was to plant the seeds, and give her time. Let her know I'm still here for when she's ready. I could tell that you care about her too, and so, I'm very grateful that she has someone like you. You *are* like her Hanna. By the way, she was right, you two will make a lovely couple. ; ) I hope to be a part of Paige's life again, so with that, I hope I'll get to meet you again someday, and re-introduce myself, properly this time, I promise. I think you're doing a wonderful job. The painting I bought meant the world to me. Trust that I wanna be with her for the rest of my life, once she'll actually let me. I liked you a lot, just so you know. If we can get through this, and you can forgive me, I think we'll be great friends one day. Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noël (I hope I wrote it right, I googled it as well…). Have a lovely year, sell a lot of McCullers work. Xo, Em."

So here we are now.

I re-read it like ten times, and I'm finally happy enough. I also signed it with my nickname, hoping it would make it more personal. Like we should be part of the same family one day.

I want the approval of the people who are close to Paige. It's important to me, because as far as I'm concerned, she's my future.

Which is why now, that I'm finally done with this email that took most of the afternoon, I'm headed out to see two more people. I got *their* approval years ago. It was a shaky start, to say the least, but now there's nothing but love there.

I say bye to my mom and dad, not even giving them time to inquire, and in ten minutes time, I'm ringing the bell at the McCullers'.

Paige's mom opens the door and a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey, Deborah," I say to her. We've been on a first name basis for years now. Everyone was certain we were gonna be family. It felt like that anyways.

"Emi! Welcome home! When did you get back? Oh my goodness, come in. It's so good to see you."

I smile at her, a genuine, happy smile, and follow her to the living room. It feels so good to be back here. 4 years with Paige, this place was like a second home to me. We had family dinners in here, extended. That means *my* parents as well. We used the pool so often. We had more than one Christmas Eve in here together, both families. I remember we came back home for Christmas in our first year in college. We sat here all together for Christmas Eve dinner. Then, when it got late, my parents went home, her parents went upstairs, and Paige and I fell asleep cuddled by the fire place next to the tree. I love fire places.

I smile at the memory and sit on the couch.

"Nick! Come down here! We have a visitor!" Debbi yelled.

They used to be way quieter. Then, they got a whole family that included me (and I come with a pack of 3 more girls), and my parents. Things got real loud, real fast. The good kind of loud. Loud that symbolizes life, and joy.

"Do you want anything to drink? Eat?" She asks me.

"No, thanks Debbie. I really can't stay for very long."

"What! Why?!"

"Who is it… oh! Hello, kiddo! What a lovely surprise!" Nick McCullers says as he walks down the stairs and sees me sitting on the couch smiling at him wholeheartedly.

"It's so good to see you, Nick! Both of you! I'm so glad I decided to stop by! My parents say hi, by the way!"

Well, they would've, for sure, if I had bothered to share with them where I was going.

"We miss them. You guys should stop by on Christmas day!" Deborah says.

"We just might."

Now Nick opens his mouth and speaks.

"Paige is, of course, MIA. She didn't even want us to join her this year. I swear, I never know what's going on with that girl. But I'll tell you this, Emi, every time we talk about you… it's so clear to everyone you two belong together. She's just a bit stupid sometimes."

"Nick!" Debbie is upset. "It's still your daughter you're talking about! "

I giggle at this. We've come such a long way since the first time I met them.

"Well, Debbie, what can I do? Sometimes, your daughter can be really annoying!" he says.

"Guys! Stop it!" I interrupt them so I can actually tell them how their daughter is doing.

"I… actually… Just came back from Paris."

"Wait, what?!" This time it was Debbie. "You saw her?"

I sigh.

"Well, yes and no. It's… complicated."

"How is it complicated?" Nick says as they both finally join me and sit down.

" I went to see her. I just got sick of it, you know? Spencer showed me one of her paintings… and I was *in it*."

"Oh, Emi, you're in most of her work, one way or another." Debbie says.

"Yes, well, I know that now. It seems that everyone knew that except for me."

They smile at me with understanding and I continue.

"I couldn't actually see her. I mean, I did, one time, through her window, but she didn't see me. God, I sound crazy."

"No, you don't." Nick says. "You sound like you're tired of waiting for this silly girl, whom I love deeply," he adds when he sees the way Debbie is looking at him. He continues, "it's nice that one of you actually made the move. She's been moping for years now. All of her other relationships always fall apart at one point or another, and then it's back to moping. Why didn't you talk to her?!"

"Because I could tell she wasn't ready. I didn't wanna push her. "

"Wait," Debbie says, "so she doesn't even know you were there?"

"No. She will soon, though. I left something for her. Once she gets it, she'll know it's from me. I just… guys, I really came over just to see how you were, and tell you that she's doing good. She's becoming so big over there. People are dying to get her pieces. She just sold a piece for $32,000."

"She did? Again?" Debbie says. "Gosh, I'm so proud of her. How do you know?"

"Well, I might've… bought it myself."

"Emily!" Debbie is scolding me, I can tell.

"I couldn't help it! It's beautiful! It's at my parents' house. I'll stop by with it so you can see it."

They smile at me, they get it. Considering the history of our two families, it's amazing how now this feels so natural. Everyone is here, in town. Mom, Dad, Debbie, Nick. The only one who's missing, is Paige.

I look at my watch, it's 5 P.M. I really wanna have dinner at home tonight, and I definitely need to go to the pool beforehand, to reset myself. Paige's parents are great. But, they're parents. It's like talking to my own parents. To have the whole "when will you get married, Emi?" talk with the wrong parents, is really unnecessary, and kind of ironic.

"Guys, it's great to see you, but I have to run. Something I gotta do before dinner."

"But you just got here! And you barely told us anything about Paris!" Debbie protests.

"I promise I'll come by again to fill in the blanks!"

"Okay," she says. We all stand up, they hug me. Then Debbie says, "Don't worry, Emily. The stupid girl will come to her senses. I just hope you'll still be around when she does."

"Debbie! This is your daughter you're talking about!" Nick teases her, which makes me chuckle.

I look at them and say, "I will. I can't not wait. I tried. I just hope she gets herself together sooner rather than later. Thank you guys. And if I don't see you until Christmas, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Emi!" they say in unison and walk me to the door. I hug them again and head out.

Too much Paige intensity. It makes me feel so at ease and so exhausted at the same time. Just go stare at some water and calm down, Em. You can hack this.


	43. Chapter 42

"Think you can hack it, McCullers?" Spencer asks me. We're five minutes away from the Fields' house.

"We both know it's not a question. At this point, it's just how it has to be."

"That's my girl, finally. She's back!"

"Literally."

"Ohhhhh yes!"

She smiles at me. "Nervous?" She asks.

"Of course."

"Why? You already know you've won."

"I guess, but… I don't want to treat it like that. We still have things to talk about. Plus, I haven't seen her in three years. I feel those butterflies again. Like when I saw her for the first time."

I feel warmth spread all over my body, knowing that in a few minutes, I'll see Em.

"Awww…" Spencer says.

"Please, Spence, we both know your sarcastic self hates this kind of talk."

"Stop misjudging me, McMonster. I absolutely adore the love you have for one another."

I smile at her quietly grateful. She's gone above and beyond for Em and I.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a second, then my phone beeps. It's a text from Aimée.

"Cherie! Soooo… guess who emailed me today to confess the fact that she's a filthy, yet stunning, liar and apologize?"

"Oh my god! Did she?! What did you say? What did *she* say?" I answer, then turn to Spencer and say "Em emailed Aimée today! To apologize and tell her the truth!"

"That's awesome!"

"Why would she do that?"

"Hmm… because for future's sake she wants a clean slate, honesty, and being liked by the people who matter to you?"

"Why are you so smart?"

"Please, it's like asking 'why are *you* so dumb?'. Things are the way they are."

"Nice, Spence, really nice."

My phone beeps again and I check the message.

"That's between *me* and Em (oh, yes, we're on nickname basis now, deal with it). No but really, she was worried she hurt my feelings. Can you find the time to tell her for me that she's adorable? I'll fill you in on the rest once you're done with your little task! Don't screw this up, Paije!"

I don't answer. I'm too nervous to focus on more than one thing right now and it took like 5 seconds for everyone to turn against me and be on the Em front. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. But even Aimée, the biggest fan of "move on already, you whiney annoying girl!" is all team Paily now.

It's like a cult. And I can't let so many people down, can I? I'm doing this for the world.

Oh, come on, I'm totally kidding. I don't give a damn about anyone else other than Em right now.

Okay, that's selfish, and not entirely true, but… like 70% true? I'm human. What can I do? I'm not gonna pretend.

"Earth to Pages." Spencer reminds me I'm not alone in the car.

"Sorry, Spence. Just a tiny bit distracted here."

She smiles and says "yes, I can see that. We've been parked for like 3 minutes."

As she says that, I turn to the window and see Emily's house.

I feel that knot in my stomach and all of a sudden the air is way too hot.

"Am I gonna have to push you?"

"No. I'm ready for this."

"Good." She says.

We both get out of the car and I go to the trunk to take my suitcase. I only have the one. Because I didn't know for how long I'll be here, I didn't wanna have to go home first, and worst case scenario, laundry will work. Or maybe, Em will let me borrow. Oh, yes, it's been too long since I've held in my hands - or had on my body - clothes that smell like her.

Sigh.

Just a nice little thought. I bite my lip and smile.

"You sure you don't wanna leave it with me and pick it up tomorrow?" Spencer asks.

"No, it's fine, Spence. Worse comes to worst, it's only one. I'll carry it."

"You want her to know you came straight from the airport, don't you?"

"Hmmm…"

"'Nough said. I'm so proud of you for finally doing this. Good luck, superstar. Not that you need it."

She gives me a kiss on the cheek, smiles at me in an encouraging way, gets back into the car and leaves me here, standing in front of this house that means so much to me. Emily's room is dark. Maybe she's in the living room, which means she might answer the door.

Gulp.

I sigh, climb the porch steps, and reach the door. I take another breath, raise my hand to knock, it's shaking. Get a hold of yourself, McCullers! This is pathetic! It's just a knock!

Ahh!

I knock. There!

Someone opens the door and I'm sure it's gonna be Em, but it's not. Right in front of me, beautiful as always - and with a huge smile now that she sees it's me - stands Pam Fields. Someone who became like a second mother to me.

"Well, well…" she says.

"Hi, Pam." I smile from cheek to cheek after seeing this woman who I love, so much.

"Welcome home, Paige."

"You don't seem surprised at all." I smile at her.

"I'm not. Took you way too long as it is. It's really good that you're here."

"It's really good to be home, Pam."

She hugs me and it feels great. Like coming back home. I *did* come back home.

She looks at me and says, "you came back for her."

"I came back for her. Finally."

She then notices my suitcase. "Did you come here straight from the airport?!"

"Hmm… yeah."

"What would your parents say?!"

I laugh. "If it was up to them, the two of us would've been married ages ago."

Pam laughs at that. She knows what it means. She takes the suitcase handle in her hand and drags it in. She leans it against the wall. I follow her in. It's so good to be back here, yet my heart is restless because I know that at any second now, Em can show up.

We sit on the couch and I look to the kitchen, it's too quiet, and I'm too scared to look at the stairs.

Pam laughs at me. I turn to her and she asks, "looking for anything in particular?"

I look at her sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm being rude. I haven't seen you in so long and I'm acting like this."

"Oh, please. I'm overjoyed that you're here, but I'm not too bothered about myself at the moment, so go ahead. Ask what you want to ask."

I smile at her. I love her. She always knew the right thing to say. She always knew how to make me feel welcomed, loved, at ease. No wonder Em grew up to be the extraordinary woman that she is. So I finally ask.

"Hmmm…where is she?"

"I think you know where she is."

She smiles at me, and I'm surprised, but then I get it, and say, "of course."

"She thinks I don't know, but she's pretty predictable, that love of your life person."

As she speaks, I can't help but smile from ear to ear. To hear the mother of the girl I want to be with, talk about us like this… things were so different for me once. In moments like this, I just know, everything is about to get right again, and a warm feeling washes over me.

She sees my reaction and stands up.

"Don't think that I'm kicking you out, but I think there's somewhere you need to be?"

"Oh, yes. Most definitely. But don't worry, I'll be back."

"I'm counting on it. You can leave your suitcase here." She smiles at me.

"Thanks."

As I stand up and finally look towards the stairs, I'm half tempted to go up there and sniff Em's pillow. I don't even think Pam would judge me. But then I notice the painting leaning on the wall. Oh my goodness. It's here.

I can't help but smile. I turn to Pam and say: "Next time she wants me to paint something for her, she should just ask, I'll do it for free."

"How about you tell her that yourself?"

"I just might."

I walk to the door and she follows me. But I turn around again. There's something I gotta ask. I'm trying to do things right, to make sure I won't make the same mistakes again, so I ask, "how come you're not mad?"

She takes what I said in. Then after a few seconds, she answers. "Because I know you were your own biggest victim."

I smile sadly at this. Straight up to the point. "Ah, yes, the Fields' ladies, always know me better than I know myself."

"That's true. Never forget that. Also, I'm a mother. So by default I'm older and wiser."

"That you are. Not the older part! I mean… Oh you know what I mean!"

She laughs at me. Typical Paige.

"Never change my dear," she says.

"I hope I will, at least a bit, just to make sure things don't end the same way."

She smiles at me. "So, are you gonna be my daughter in law? Finally?"

"Working on it," I say with all honesty. I want nothing more.

"Good." She says. Then, after a few seconds add, "next time you come over, I'll be a real mom and ask you all about your life. You're not off the hook, young lady, just spared for now."

I laugh at this. "Deal."

We smile at each other again, we both know the next time we see each other things will be different. We say our goodbyes, I hug her and off I go.

I *really* hope the bar that was missing in the fence surrounding the gym areas is still gone.

God forbid Em and I will manage to be at the same place at the same time. Oh, no. That'd be too easy.

Alright, then. Here we go.


	44. Chapter 43

"I just have to go, Em. I need to… I don't know, I need to travel, see the world. I miss Paris."

"You miss *us* in Paris. That's not the real Paris."

"I miss feeling like I can do what I want, whenever I want! That I can go to sleep and choose to be somewhere else tomorrow. Feeling that way just makes me realize how much I don't understand *anything* and how much I'm really not good to be around right now!"

"Paige, instead of freaking out, how about you talk to me?! I've seen you like this for months and you're just now bringing it up! In an outburst! This is not how we do things! If you don't want me anymore then just say it, but there's no way, in hell, that you don't want me anymore."

"See how sure of yourself you are? I'm the opposite."

"What? You don't know what you want, Paige? Really? You've never loved anyone else so… so what? You don't know if this is real because you have nothing to compare it to? Well too fucking bad, P! Because I *do* have something to compare it to and let me just tell you that never in my life has something felt more real to me. You fell into the right place and found your missing piece early on. So what?! Lucky you! Some people search for this their whole lives! It's a blessing, Paige, not a curse….Paige? Hey are you even listening to me?"

"I am… it's just…"

"Just what?"

"I made up my mind already, Em."

"Don't say that."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't say that! Say anything else! Yell at me! But don't tell me you've made up your mind, because once you do, I know I've lost."

Paige looked at the ground.

"And now you're looking at the ground. You're breaking all of our rules today."

"Well, then, I guess it's a good thing I'm going," she said sarcastically.

"Don't say that. Don't do this. Don't look for an excuse."

She seemed so helpless. She was in distress, but so was I. I didn't know what to say or what to do to stop this from happening. I couldn't fix this.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't wanna hurt you."

"Then don't."

"But I can't not. Don't you see?"

"Then let me come with you. Let me travel with you, like you want. We can try this for a while."

"I can't."

"Why not?!"

"Because you're right. Because it's partially an excuse. Because there are things going on for you. Because I'm a mess and I will never drag you into this with me."

"P, come on! What do I have going for me other than you?! What matters as much as you do? I'm in school. It's not like I'm leaving a career behind. We can take the year off and figure things out together. We're Emily and Paige, that's what we do! Figure things out *together*. You're mine. Your mess is my mess. You can't drag me into something I'm already in. So, so deep."

She looked at me and I could see she was on the verge of tears.

"Em…"

"4 years, Paige. Please, not like this."

She didn't know what to say, and I was looking at her, panicking. She was slipping through my fingers. My hold on her was weakening, I was losing her.

"Em, I'm trapped here. My mind is too restless. I have to change something or I will destroy all the good that we had. I know I will. I know myself."

"I never thought I'd hear the word 'trapped' coming out of your mouth to describe us. That's something other people say, on TV, not us."

"But it's not you! It's me!"

"Come on!"

"No, Em, I mean it! I love you, more than anything else in the world. That's why I can't stay."

"If you love me, this is why you can't *go*, don't you see?"

"Em, you're so good at knowing what's going on both in my heart and in my head. Can't *you* see? Can't you see how in my heart, I'm yours but my head…"

"What can I do to stop this from happening?"

"You can't do anything. It's not your fault. You gotta let me go. I can't go when you're looking at me like that."

"So not only are you telling me to not fight for you, but you also want my… what? Blessing?! To leave me?"

"You deserve something whole. And unless I manage to silence these voices in my head, I'm not gonna be that wholesome person. My doubts will destroy both of us and you'll end up hating me."

"Not too fond of you right *now*, Paige." She sighed, and I added quickly, "you know what I mean. And no one is whole. I love you as you are. The good, the bad, the quirks. You are a whole to me. You are a part of *my* being whole. Don't take it away from me."

"One day you'll thank me for this."

"Again with the Clichés, McCullers. I never took you for a clichéd kind of girl."

She looked at me, and I knew it was over. She was about to use her last bit of will power to head out before she wouldn't be able to.

She took a step towards me, kissed my forehead and said, "you are the most real thing I ever had. Noting will ever change it. I'm sorry. I love you in ways I didn't think were possible."

Then she started to cry, turned around, and left quickly.

I was too paralyzed by the moment to move and stop her. I tried. I couldn't move. I found myself sitting alone in what used to be *our* apartment. Left alone in an echoing room. I heard the echo, because I started to cry hysterically.

That was the last time I saw her, until that afternoon in Paris, through her window, more than three years later.

She left me alone in our apartment in Philadelphia. I saw her alone in her apartment in Paris, and now, I'm standing alone in the place that brought us together to begin with.

Staring at the water of the pool. Like I've done so many times before. I don't know why this gloomy memory came upon me today. Maybe it was my visit to her parents' house. Lots of history there. Maybe it's the fact that there's no magic trick. A few days at home aren't gonna erase the week I just had in Paris. She said she had these voices in her head, but I saw her paintings. *I* am the voices in her head. Nothing she can say will prove me otherwise.

Maybe Spencer was right about regrouping. I'm trying to do what's right for Paige, so we can truly have a clean slate, and not a new beginning in which one side is still upset with the other. The problem is that 'what's right' versus 'what's wrong' is becoming a bit of a blur. Maybe I need to head back there and be more aggressive. Am I being rational to think that, or just impatient? I wanna hit her with the truth, but that's what I tried to do the day she broke up with me, and she still left. But that was then, maybe things are different now?

My god. Can I just let it go? Just for a few days, until after Christmas, enjoy my loved ones - minus one - and think of this *after*? Seriously, after the holiday I'll call upon the highest powers, aka – the gang, for an ice cream session at Hanna's like the good old days. Then we'll see what *their* version of regrouping is.

They've been in touch with her this whole time. Maybe I should've asked them for their advice and help to begin with. Independence be damned! Oh, what am I saying? No one can do my job for me.

Sigh.

Yes. I think I'll do just that. Focus on fun, chocolaty, Christmasy things for the next few days, then it's all about the comfort food and the making of plans, before heading back to LA and the real life. Or back to Paris, round 2. Who knows anything anymore.

Until then, I think I'll look at the water some more. Yes. Seems like a good enough of an idea. For now.


	45. Chapter 44

I'm looking at her from afar, and I know I can just go to her. Because I'm standing here by the pool, and all I see, after all these years, these doubts, is *my* girl. So I'm pretty comfortable with doing what I'm about to do. Hopefully, without disturbing her much.

That said, staring at her like this, I'm feeling like a stalker. But hey, she had done this for a whole week. I'm totally entitled to dreamy eye her, as I see her, *really* see her, for the first time in three years.

I lick my lips. Nothing has changed. I smile to myself. Not in *that* department anyways.

With the water from the pool reflecting on her face, she looks like something from a dream.

I've been standing here for the past 15 minutes and my guess is I will be for at least 15 more. I just hope she doesn't move. I wanna go to her. But I'm just frozen like this.

I remember the first time I saw her swim in this pool. I already loved her by then, but I didn't really know it, and I couldn't even admit nor explain it to myself.

This place means so much to us. So many memories. We won meets here, went for a midnight swim together. Sometimes we would just come here - I'd lay on one of the benches, with my head in her lap, she'd stroke my hair - and we'd talk for hours. About everything. From making up silly words together, to talk about art, and TV, or plan our future. I think that was our favorite part.

This space used to feel so big and it was ours.

There was something really exciting about making love in the water at night and coming for practice or a meet, the following morning. These were our waters. We ruled them, owned them.

I even put these waters in a painting and she bought it. We have an unbreakable bond, with each other and with this place. Looking at her, while she looks at the water, might be the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.

I know, all of a sudden, what my next painting is gonna be. Even if no one else ever sees it, it'll be magical.

I can't believe we actually exist in the same space again. I can almost touch her. She's real. Not something that I imagined. It should bring up so many fears, and nerves, but I feel surprisingly relaxed. It *shouldn't* be a surprise, though. This was a riddle for me to figure out all along, a puzzle. Only two pieces to go now and they've found each other. The only thing left is for them to attach.

It's been a long time coming.

"She wants me, she loves me. She came to Paris for me, bought my painting, left me a snow globe. It's okay. She's mine. I'm hers. I can go over there."

She was mine all along. I think that deep down we both knew it, or we wouldn't have ended up standing where we are now. After 3 years apart, I knew where to go, she knew where to be, and I realize, no one else ever stood a chance. But thanks for participating.

I look at her, and I smile. Because that's what always happens when I look at Em, and nothing has changed.

No, scratch that. *I* have changed.

I'm not gonna congratulate myself, it's not glamorous, but it's still there.

The change is, that 3 years ago she asked me not to leave, but I left. Now, she asked me in her way to come back, and I did. 2 years ago I was travelling and doing nothing about my career, now I can support a household of 10, for life. 5 months ago, I wouldn't be able to say no to Renée, 5 days ago, I kicked her out, for good. Finally broke my pattern.

I hit rock bottom, just to rise again. I'm a Phoenix! I'm a Paige – Phoenix! Painix? Phige?

Never mind! I will figure that out later! Maybe we can lay on the benches together and she'll help me sort it out. Painix sound like a pain killer. I really suck at this and I could really use her help, with this and with everything.

And my god, she's standing there and she's gorgeous. And I'd be very happy to have her by my side, every day, forever, and for many, *many* purposes.

Thank god my mind is not prime time TV, because all this talk about the fire bird, and looking at Em, means that my mind should be rated PG – 13 right now. At the least.

I wonder what she's thinking about.

*Maybe* I should just ask.

But that would imply moving, and all of a sudden it's all very terrifying. And exhilarating at the same time.

All this time, having my own place, living my own life, as I told myself I wanted to, I had no clue. My mom and dad visited me in Paris, and I've been now back in Rosewood for a couple of hours. But with all the loved ones, and all the so called freedom, it is only now, that I finally feel like I'm home. I was away for so long. But I'm back now. The only time I felt something that was an eighth of this feeling, was when a certain snow globe was sitting in my palm.

Home.

Is exactly where your heart is. Just like they said. Whomever "they" are.

And my heart was thousands of miles away from me for so long.

But this has come to an end. I'm ready to give myself to her now. I'm ready to *let* myself be with her.

I can't help but think about the house sculpture back in my apartment in Paris. The endgame. The future that freaked me out once, but now lit fire of desire and longing in my eyes. I can feel the heat.

Again with the fire.

Fire and water. They *can* exist together. Fire for the passion, water, for the heart.

Air for travelling *together*, and Earth… oh, my little clay house… for a new start.

Great, now I'm also a poet. That's not an haiku, is it?

But still quite poetic.

Future full of the elements. They all balance each other.

Like Em and I.

So no, I'm not afraid anymore.

Bring it on, world!

I mean, there's still the issue of making her un-mad at me. Which I might do, once I actually go there. Which I *can't* do. Partially because to stop looking at her when she's looking like that, feels like violating something sacred. Then the other part, is me being terrified. I'm so gonna get bitch slapped. Oh, well, we can laugh about it with the grandkids in forty years or so. Will that be too soon for grandkids?

Oh stop thinking, Paige! You're ridiculous! Just move!

Oh feet, just do your thing already!


	46. Chapter 45

I look at my watch, it's 7 P.M. already.

And I wanted to be home early for dinner. Whoops?

Well, 5 more minutes of standing by the pool. Tops.

I can't help but smile, because I'm feeling better. Thank you, my dear sanctuary, for working like magic.

I'm lost in my dreamy, now more optimistic thoughts, when I feel hands wrap around me and a breath on my neck. I jump a little, startled, but almost immediately, realization sinks in.

"It's okay. It's only me. I couldn't resist. I'm sorry," she says, but doesn't let go.

She didn't have to say a word. Yes, my body reacted to the surprise, but the moment she touched me, I knew it was her. Hearing her voice, I smile with my back to her. Even though technically, she was being rude. But I still smile. Give myself a moment of not saying anything. Just letting the warmth caused by her touch to spread all over my body. And marvel. There's no better word, in this case, than marvel. It's possible that I'm shaking. It makes sense. I'm sure I do, actually, because she tightens her grip as if to give me more warmth. She doesn't realize I'm shivering like this because of how good I feel. How incredibly, ridiculously, good I feel. Like I'm finally where I belong.

I still smile, but I know it's time to break the moment. Things don't work this way, do they? We can't just hit resume. So I turn around with a composed expression. You know, just like in the movies. Not letting her see how easily she affected my whole being. We stare at each other for a few long moments. Really take each other in after years apart. Then, she smirks.

"Back to where it all started, ah?" she says and smiles at me, trying to finally say something.

I'm looking at her. Looking straight into her eyes. I'm not giving in that easily. What is she even doing here? Is this completely right, or is it all wrong? And how long is it gonna last? So I just ask: "You came home for Christmas?"

"I came home for *you*."

"Cheesy."

"Yeah, but did it work?"

I can't help myself. She's being way too cocky. I missed it so much but she gave me a whole week of grief. All of this concentrated negativeness finally gets to the point of combustion, so I slap her. It wasn't really planned, or too forceful - and I regret it a second later of course - but I can't let her see that she's already won. Thsough I know she knew it the moment I stayed in her arms.

The slap makes her take a step back, slightly surprised. I finally get to really scan her top to bottom, for the first time in three years, to see that she's real. I must admit, it feels all kinds of awesome.

"I guess I deserved that," she says.

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't answer my text." I remember the real reason for my annoyance. The thing that was the last straw.

"I made a lot of bad choices that day."

She looks so sincere and I just wanna touch her, but I guess those extra few moments of silence were too much for her, because she sighs and starts to speak again.

"Look, Em… I know that there's so much to work through. Trust has to be built again, on both sides ... You have to learn if ... if we're even the same people we were, if we can fit in each other's lives."

Wait… is she?

"It's a long... important process, and ... can we just skip it? Can…"

"Oh my god, are you quoting Buffy to me right now?!"

This is truly shocking and I'm about to go ballistic on her inability to just say something real to me right now, but I just see her smile. I can't decide if it's more annoying or more of a turn on. Damn you and your witchy ways, McCullers!

"Ah, I didn't think you'd remember. But I've taught you well, Emilysan."

I can't help but giggle at that. She's back and she's almost the same. Almost. There's something different. Not necessarily bad. But still, she's in trouble for not being original with me. Or replying to my text.

"Please, Paige! You know how many times I've re-watched season six after we broke up?! You are such a nerd! But still, why must you ruin a moment like this, P?"

She smiles at her nickname, and I just raise an eyebrow. I must admit, it's nice to feel this nickname upon my lips, being said by me, again. To her. Not to an empty room. She answers my question.

"It's my hidden gift. And you gotta admit this specific quote is very fitting. Plus, I just didn't want it to be awkward. We were never awkward. I can handle love, anger, passion, but I don't think I can do awkwardness with you."

"Please. We had our share of plenty of awkward during the Maya round 2 and Samara periods."

"Oh, she 'the blonde, who must not be named'. Yes."

We're silent again. I know it bothers her and I can see that she's trying. She's here. She said she's here for *me*, so I'm gonna help her this time around and be the one to talk.

"We're not the kind of couple to just resume without talking about things."

"No, we're not."

"We have a lot to sort out."

"Yeah, we do".

"There's always a need for sorting when you're involved, Paige McCullers."

"It's very true. Is it gonna be a problem?"

"Nothing I can't handle. Are the voices in your head finally gone?"

"Not entirely. But I think I've learned how to tell them to shut the fuck up."

"Good."

Silence. We're both standing with hands in our pockets now, a small gap between us. I want her to feel comfortable, but I also know that if I don't ask my questions now, it might be a while before I do. It'll haunt me and it'll prevent me from truly forgiving her, which hypothetically, I can so easily do.

"Why did you run away from me?" I finally ask.

She does this face she does when she's in a more sarcastic sorta mood. The "just another typical McCullers fuck up" mood. If only she knew, how wrong she was. She sees me look at her and finally answers.

"Ha. Because what I *really* wanted to do was to propose to you. And so instead, the most logical thing to do seemed to be to flee. Naturally."

"Naturally."

I look at her and smile. After so long, it was pretty easy for her to tell me what she couldn't back then. Which means that we're on the right track. Not to mention, she said the word "propose" in the same sentence with "you". "You," in this case, referring to me. My mind goes wild with thoughts of the possibilities and my heart is just about ready to explode with emotions. Which is funny, because if we're being honest, this is not a shocker. I guess this notion is evident on my face, because she says: "You know this already, don't you?"

"I do. Because I know you better than anyone else."

"You do. Is that why you came to Paris? You knew I needed to know this could still happen?"

"How did you… Spencer."

"Yep."

"That sneaky little Langley bastard!"

"Wait, you think she works at Langley too?!"

"Of course! I mean, she says she's in Washington…"

"But no one really knows what she's *actually* doing!"

"Right?!"

We looked at each other for a few seconds, smiling at the fact of how we are still in sync. Finishing each other's sentences. Then she gets serious.

"But Em, I need you to know, the moment I've heard you came to Paris I took a plane home. Well, technically not the *moment*, because Spencer was there, but…"

"And *you* need to know, that you're so strong, P. Look at our history. You wanted me, you got me. It's always gonna be like that."

Wait, did she say Spence was there? Completely missed that part of the sentence. I guess that's why Spence was so assuring. Ha! That was her "work" stuff. Lovely. Well, thank her later, but never mind that now. Mind *Paige* now.

She looks at me, sighs and smiles. She closes the distance between us, moves a strand of hair from my face and cups my cheek with her hand. I close my eyes for a second. Doing this marveling thing again. It's sensational.

When I finally open my eyes, she just stares at me.

"What?" I ask before I even realize I've spoken.

She smiles and sighs again.

"Sometimes I think that I don't breathe when I'm not by your side. It's like I hold my breath the entire time until I see you again. It's always been like that."

I smile at her and raise my hand to hold her wrist that is near my face.

"Three years is a very long time to hold your breath," I say.

"It really is."

She still looks at me, in a very intense way and I know what's coming. I'll be damned if I'm gonna be the one to stand in the way of this being easier on the both of us.

"I'm sorry, Em."

"I forgive you."

She looks at her feet. I know that when things work out, she just finds a way to make herself miserable by feeling guilty and undeserving. Hence the look at the ground.

"Come on, P, you still do that? After all this time? And please, don't answer 'always'."

She looks at me immediately, with a grin on her face.

"Who's the nerd now, talking Harry Potter to me?"

"Shut up."

"Extremely hot."

For a moment I think that this idiot is finally gonna kiss me, but she just put her other hand on my waist, actually touching my skin. Well, clearly it's not "just" since we both gasp at the touch. The result is us looking at one another, giggling, realizing how this moment is affecting both of us. She starts to speak again.

"You know, the one thing I never doubt is that I love you. I lived with that knowledge every day I was apart from you."

"Loving me is not the part you doubted," I state matter of factly.

"Never."

I smile, because I believe her. It's not that I need to *choose* to believe her. I *know* she's telling the truth, and I have a painting at home to prove it.

"That's good ,McCullers. If your only issue is self doubts - which we all have, you wuss - but you vow to me that you always love me, then I can handle your low days and find a way to bring you back to me."

"You shouldn't need to do this. It's not your job." She sighs. But it's okay. I'm not afraid at all.

"Oh, yes, yes it is. And I think it's not gonna happen very often."

I smile at her. I *know* it's not gonna happen very often. Just by showing up here tonight, she already made a promise to me. And she knows it too, because she says: "I think you're right."

I give her a very pleased smile, and I'm ready to tease her a bit. "That said, don't ever do it again. There's a reason why it's called a second chance and not a third chance."

"Duly noted."

It's my turn to remove a strand of hair from her face. God, she's so beautiful. I just let my fingertips touch her face. It sounds ridiculous, but I don't feel like we're in a rush. I feel like we have all the time in the world to do this right. I know now that I was right, she needed me to go to Paris. I should've done it way sooner and saved us so much lost time.

"I know it's my fault too," I say.

"How is it your fault?!"

"Because it's not enough that you're doing so great by my side for a long periods of time. You don't need my help to bring you back to me during those times. But sometimes you don't do as good, you have doubts, and then, when you need me to bring you back home, I should pay attention."

"Well… you brought me home now."

"I guess I did."

"No guessing, Em. You did."

"How did you know I'd be okay with you being here? I mean, *here* here."

"Because you came to find me, Em. It seems like you always come to find me. And I wanted to be found."

"But I didn't find you. Not… entirely."

"Yes, you did. I'm here."

"What if I don't want you here?" I tease her and she knows. Oh, she knows.

"If you would've told me that you didn't want me here, I'd say that there's gotta be a way for us to sort things out. Because, I can't not be with you anymore. I can't set my brain to not love you, and will never be able to. I have to accept it. And I *know* you feel the same."

"Fairly convincing."

"Luckily that is not the case."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?"

She smiles at me, I know she's finally at ease and I know it's my turn to be teased.

"Oh, *so* sure, Em. $32,000? Really?"

"Well technically, the money stayed in the family."

"Did it now?"

"Yes."

"Am I paying your mom that money to buy you from her?"

"Am I only worth $32,000?!"

"I'll throw in some extra paintings."

"Okay then."

She looks at me so intensely right now, that I can't take it anymore. Just when I'm about to finally show her just how much my body needs her, I feel her lips on mine. She knows there's a part of me which needed her to do the first step and she did, showing me that I can count on her to do that. Know what I need, and give it to me. We wrap our hands around one another, feeling everything. It takes a second before we both find our way to the skin under each other's shirts.

I feel like we've been doing this for ages before she breaks the kiss, knowing we can't do what we're about to do, here. This is getting way too steamy, way too fast. Or can we?

She trembles in my arms, looking at me and it's just like the first time I kissed her, outside of that rustic bar. The look in her eyes. The gentle tremble. She's home. *I'm* home. We found what we were looking for.

She leans her forehead against mine, and I'm sure we both know that unless we get out of here soon, we'll end up being in trouble. This is not our "usual" hour. The night guard will come soon.

She raises her head all of a sudden and I look at her to see what happened. She smiles and says: "And just to clarify once again, I love you. Madly in love with you, yes?"

I can't help but giggle. "Yeah yeah, shut up, you got what you came here for."

I lean in to kiss her again, but then I remember something.

"Oh my god, Aimée must hate me!"

Paige laughs at this. I missed her laughter, her real one, from the heart *so* much. But at the same time, I wanna shove her shoulder because she's being annoying right now. Only up until the point when she says: "Are you kidding? She *loves* you. When she realized who you were she loved you even more."

"Really?"

She nods and that's enough for me.

She leans in again.

"Nearly Merry Christmas, Em."

"Nearly Merry Christmas, my love. I'm glad some things never change."

"What specifically are you referring to?"

"You talk a lot."

"Hey, you weren't exactly qui…"

I cut her off as I close the distance between us and kiss her.

So yeah, we kiss, again. Of course we kiss. How did you think this was gonna end?


	47. Epilogue

I'll say it time and again. I hate epilogues.

They sucked on Harry Potter *and* on The Hunger Games as well.

I'm not gonna tell you that the name of our first child is Spencer Hanna McFields. That would be a horrible name for a child. Too many elements. We would *never* do that to sweet little Aria Marin Field-Cullers.

Just kidding.

So I'm not gonna tell you much. Nope.

I'm not gonna tell you that *maybe* the day after, and the rest of the nights till Christmas - we sneaked in to the school's pool to swim. Of course, there's a pool at my parents' house, but that was *so* not the point.

I'm also not gonna say that when we got home that night, I showed her the box with all the gifts I kept for her over the years.

There was only one way that night could've gone from there. If this wasn't, of course, all hypothetical.

Journeys are very important to me. Even if I'm not the best at them, I still know everyone needs to go through them.

We're not exactly as we were. We're older and wiser, which makes us more sarcastic, but mostly, better. To one another, to ourselves. To the loved ones around us. Young and adults alike.

Why would we wanna be like something that had an expiration date? No, no. This is the 2.0. The sequel. And unlike most cases, it's way better than the original. Our script writing skills improved quite a lot over the course of those three years. As did some other skills. *Crucial* skills.

Some days are harder. When we fight - like people who love each other sometimes do - we fight with the same kind of passion we do *everything* else with. But I'm not going anywhere. There's never even a thought of going anywhere. I do zone out sometimes, and that's okay.

She'll ask me, "hey babe, where did you go?" And by that, she'll bring me back, as always, to where I'm supposed to be. To her.

But we'll get there. To the point when she won't have to ask me anymore. We're almost there. Every day I'm with her, it's a day I'm closer to… "getting there".

As for me, I don't need to worry about having her around so I can be inspired. She's always around, so I'm always inspired. I'm very grateful that almost whenever I wanna touch her, I can just reach my hand,

and there she'll be. That if I'm far, I can still hear her voice every day. Be it because she joined me, or just because I skyped her. Because I can. Because she's mine.

And I never, *never* leave texts unattended. Never.

As for her, she doesn't hate Paris anymore. Why would she? Whenever she's in Paris, she has work, she has free baked goods, and she has a fireplace. A fireplace that almost always comes with a snuggling buddy.

There's also no way that a week goes by without her talking to Aimée. I swear I always end up seeing clothes that belong in Paris, in a closet in PA, or LA, and vice versa. And you can never know if it's really Em's or Aimée's, or actually Hanna's anymore. Girls.

Still, with a closet full of clothes, there's a certain old plaid shirt she won't get rid of, and occasionally, mostly when I'm away, sleep in.

As for us, that night by the pool, and all the gaps we had to fill… we learned a lot about all that happened during those three years, thanks to the girls who filled us in. As for the rest, we'll have all the time in the world. No doubt about that.

And as for *now*… I need to go pack. Because I'm headed *home*. And I can't get there any sooner.

You can say that I'm living my endgame.

I think that'll be all for what is clearly a way better epilogue than most epilogues. Ever.

And on that note…

Paige out.

**THE END**


	48. Final Author's note

** FINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE (originally written in 2013) **

As We Were, 4 months ago, before this madness started.

When I started this thing I was like "should I even do it? I haven't written a fanfic in 10 years." (Willow and Tara, 50 pages long, in Hebrew. No point in looking, but I can tell you that Tara came back to life, and wasn't a depressed zombie).

I haven't been emotionally invested enough in a show to want to write about it, in a very long time.

But then there was Paige McCullers, and Emily Fields, and they dealt with Maya's death together, and it touched me so deeply that it was the point of no return.

If I liked it enough to be a loyal viewer before, this specific bond definitely pushed me to want to create around a franchise again.

[This](http://shokoshik.tumblr.com/post/29573167319/acting-with-sorrow) might explain why. 

I spent the past few years writing. I was a film major years ago, scriptwriting was my thing, and I didn't abandon it. It just wasn't about adaptation. Or creation within someone else's world.

And then, 3X09 came by and changed things.

So I decided to sharpen my fandom pencil, metaphorically speaking, and give it a go.

That was the "I want to do it" moment. But it was followed by the "*Can* I do it?" moment.

I was lucky enough to have the lovely Terias McKlay, Dana Piccoli and AngeloYellow by my side (virtually speaking), who got the prologue back when there was *only* a prologue. Once they told me I didn't totally suck, I sighed with relief and kept on writing.

This was a few months back and I can't even tell you if while I wrote the prologue, I had a clear vision of where this was headed. Because I honestly don't remember.

When I got to Chapter 1, though, I already knew most of what was gonna happen, and some chapters (including the last) were almost written in their entirety before I even got this story "off the ground."

Terias graciously decided to join me for the entire ride and she became, as I call it, my editor, my beta, basically, "The Beditor" which sounds totally bad ass. I'm so grateful for all she's done, by helping me making this story way smoother and visually nicer. She was always patient when I asked her billions of questions, or made the same punctuation mistakes over and over again, and she taught me a lot. She also understood how much it mattered to me to keep my own voice and style, so she let me make my own adjustments even if it meant emailing back and forth about 10 times for a chapter.

She dedicated *a lot* of her free time for someone else's story (musical theatre nerd in the house!) and I never took it for granted, and will always be grateful for her kindness.

When I started, I was on a vacation back home in Israel. Which is why at the beginning you got 6 chapters a week. It was a great time for me, because vacations are great. Especially if your family spoils you and you get to see people you love and can't see very often. It was also pretty good for muse's sake.

Then, I flew back to NYC. It was interesting flying above France writing, knowing Em was headed to Paris soon enough. I have a lot of love for Europe, and a special place in my heart for Paris. When I got back to NYC, work and craziness took their toll, and Terias was insanely busy too, so the update rate slowed down, but there was never a doubt in my heart that this story will be done. After all, it was the love child of 3 different continents!

Every time I'm busy with any form of art, I give it everything I have in terms of attention, honesty, energy, emotional craziness, and perfecting.

This is why when I saw this story is actually headed somewhere, I asked my amazing friend, Hila Taylor, to do the amazing cover art. I drove her crazy with details. We're both perfectionists, on the verge of insanity. Which is why this took days, and many a sketches. You can read about it [here](http://shokoshik.tumblr.com/post/33167490536/cover-art-for-as-we-were-the-process). 

Quite talented, isn't she? I say Google her!

Of course, the other thing that happens, as I mentioned, is that I get very emotionally involved.

It's just the state of mind I need to be in, in order to do things right.

I put my own words and variations of experiences and conclusions in these characters, because I believe that deep down, we're all the same, and we want the same things. Which means I really do put my heart and soul in a story, and this is not some freaky Horcrux thing.

Which is why this feels like saying goodbye to a close friend, or ending a long term relationship. I know how it sounds. Yep. But it was my something familiar to go home to. Just like the girls. And it pained me to write their bad days, and gave me pleasure to write their good ones. Extremely good mood was reserved for McHastings moments.

By the time you read this post, I've been actually done for a few weeks. So I had that "whoa" moment already. I sighed the sigh, took the breath, and cracked the bittersweet smile on my face.

I had some time to process before I wrote this.

So I think I'm qualified to say – I know how you feel.

But since all I did all day was to worry about this story, and since I knew to begin with this will happen, it had to have an end, since day 1.

You guys tweeted, and *re*tweeted, and reblogged, and reviewed. You PMed me, and left notes in my Tumblr box. You can't possibly know how humbled I feel, how grateful, and overwhelmed. Your response, and ongoing support was what really made me wanna finish this. You let me be a part of your life for a while, you committed, and the only thing I could do in return, was to do the same. I hope you feel like I served you right, by sharing a part of myself with you all.

In addition to the people I already mentioned above, and who kept supporting me throughout the whole thing, I also wanna mention my two lovely ladies who got early sneak peeks until the very end, and let me feel like things wrapped up nicely, not just in *my* head, but in other peoples' heads, too. So rcampdel, and theparanoicislogical, thank you, ladies.

Don't know when will be the next time. Bugging me about it *might* actually help. In the meantime, if you wonder about other works of mine, they're mostly more on the acting side, but answers to these wonderings can be found on [www.chendrachman.com](https://www.chendrachman.com) . I also talk too much on Tumblr and Twitter as "shokoshik". Don't be a stranger.

Thank you for being incredible and lighting my days sometimes.

Chen.


	49. Chapter 49

Dear friends who supported my storytelling all these years and by doing so kept my head above the water at times when I was wondering where my writing is gonna take me, if anywhere at all.

I'm always grateful to you, and I'm very pleased to say that the film I've been trying to make for more than 4 years is finally happening. We're shooting _[Ruth's](https://www.ruthsfilm.com/) _ late April, with non other than Tony and Emmy award nominee, Tovah Fedlshuh ( _Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, The Walking Dead, Kissing Jessica Stein_ ) in the lead role.

_Ruth's_  is a "what might have been" tale, centered around a deep-seated family secret that finally comes to the surface (on Seder night of all times!)

The story touches on the subject of the Holocaust, of intolerance, memory, symbolism, and even the downside of fame.

We're only 6 days away from the end of our crowdfunding campaign, and I'd love to tell you a bit about where we're at, and how you can support us even if you can't make a financial contribution (which is understandable!)

1\. We already raised over $16.5K! Which is mind blowing!

2\. We only need $3500 more to get the "green light" which is at 80% of the general goal. If we get that, we get everything we raised to that point, and beyond!

3\. How you can help  **for free**  - the way our platform works is - if we get to 500 page follows, we unlock some production related benefits that will really help us and cut costs, such as discounted equipment rental and so much more. We're currently at 407 followers!

4\. If you do wanna make a pledge, we'll be very grateful of course, and appreciate  **any**  amount. We also offer some really cool incentives such as special thanks in the credits, items signed by Tovah, and even a box of home made Belgian Galettes, which my sister will make for you with the secret family recipe in my parent's kitchen in Israel :D

If you read up to this point, thanks so much! To see our campaign page for either a follow, a pledge, or just because you're curious, just go [here](http://www.seedandspark.com/fund/ruthsfilm). 

I love you all, even if we don't know each other personally. You're a big part of my life. Have a great weekend,

X

Chen

 

  


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